The LIST
by 12345
Summary: A renegade Wilybot manages to escape his creator's laboratory, but finds himself on the bad side of a shady gang with a doomsday weapon...
1. Page A2

**Disclaimer!**  
Surprise, surprise-I don't own Capcom or the Rockman (Mega Man!) franchise in any shape or form. 

**A note on dates:** The term '20XX' is used to describe the time period, not the year, in which this tale takes place. Likewise, the Rockman series takes place across at least fifteen years if the game release dates are anything to go by, but (with the exception of 200X, which was the name of the year for a couple of titles) the year is continually called '20XX'. Thus, I would label the day before and the day after the new year 31 December 20XX and 1 January 20XX. Confusing, I know, but I hope you'll understand.

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**Benedict Greway  
New York Times  
Tuesday, January 4, 20XX**

_If you ever want to lock something away for the rest of the world with absolutely no fear of anybody getting at it, forget Fort Knox. Instead, try the Tennesse National Radioactive Holding Ground, about thirty miles north and west of Knoxville, USA. It's easily one of the most secure places on the planet and it's where the Government of the United States of America stores tens of tons of nuclear waste at a time. The worn-out uranium rods are waiting in vertical slots about six feet deep, their fate resting with a rocket that will launch them into space and out of mind once every two months from the on-site pad. _

However, the next load going up will be a bit lighter than usual. Just last night every line of defense the plant could summon up was broken through, two guards were stabbed to death and sixty pounds worth of highly radioactive waste was stolen.

A puzzling case to say the very least. The single guard spared by the burglar claims it happened early yesterday morning, somewhere between one and three AM Eastern Standard Time. He tells of one of his fellows pointing out a "dark shape" hovering over the electrified chain link fence that forms the compound's ceiling. "It looked almost like a man, but it had huge wings," the guard, named Edward Cox, told the Times_ yesterday. _

"I couldn't see it then, but his wings were covered with blades instead of feathers. He pulled some of these off each wing and threw them at the fencing, cutting open a large hole which he slipped through into the compound."

Confusion reigned supreme for a moment or two as the large door sealing the complex was opened. "We tried to tell ourselves it wasn't happening...but he was real and he was loading rods (of uranium) into a big sack."

The three guards rushed into the heart of the Holding Ground, pointing their AK-47s at the man and threatening to shoot if he didn't put his hands in the air. He stopped what he was doing and turned slowly to look at them, with a "cheeky, almost evil look" on his face. He was described as "only as tall as a fifteen-year-old and looking a lot like one too, with scruffy black hair and freaky yellow eyes" and was "dressed like any kid to walk off the street."

"He stared at us and we stared at him. We didn't know whether to fire or not-he was just a kid, y'know? Anyway, after a minute or so he grinned and pointed at the symbol on his vest over his heart. It was a red triangle-an upside-down one, mind you-with a blue dot in the middle. Then he said 'Congratulatons, gentlemen, you're all on the list,' and threw a load of his feather-blades at us."

Cox tells of how he threw himself out of the way just in time, the knives gruesomely cutting down the other two guards. He didn't give the mysterious winged thief a second chance-scrambling to his feet, he took off towards the doors of the inner compound with the words "Just tell them what happened and no harm will come to your family!" ringing in his ears.

In response to the scores of calls from newspapers around the world concerning Cox's story, the director of the North American Hazardous Waste Board held a conference later in the day. "This is a very strange and very frightening predicament," Camille Roy told the legion of reporters who attended. "The Holding Ground is one of the safest places in the world and yet this person sliced through our armor like paper. He must be found and captured as soon as possible, before he can do serious damage with his abilities.

"Furthermore, the symbol Mr. Cox described is an exact replica of the one used by the street gang known at the Lazuli Island Strike Team, who are currently causing havoc in the island country of Cardulia. It is unknown what an organization such as the LIST, as they are called by the locals, would want with radioactive waste...but no matter how odd the situation may appear, we must retrieve the waste before any harm can be caused by it."

* * *

Spectre threw page A2 of the newspaper at the boy who sat across the coffee table. Bladewing caught it as it sailed towards his head, grinning down at the glaring headline. "'Winged Boy Palms Nuclear Waste'. Very nice. These people are getting good." 

Spectre just glared. "The boss told you to make sure not to be seen. He's gonna throw a fit when he sees this."

"Oh? And what if I do _this_?" Bladewing asked, neatly tearing the page in two vertical pieces and rolling them into a pair of wrinkled balls. He tossed one into the wastepaper basket next to the coffee table and bounced the other off Spectre's head. "Look, I did what he wanted. Terry's not gonna flame me-I succeeded where you couldn't. Heh, flame...God, I'm punny."

Spectre caught the ball as it made contact with the bridge of his nose and began its descent towards the carpet. "I resent that. I could've just gone Indetectible and slipped through every wall they had." He juggled the wad with one hand, glancing over at the small colour television set on the end of the table separating his hands from Bladewing's neck. "Fear Factor? Why the hell do you watch this crap, anyway?"

This time it was Bladewing's turn to be insulted. "Well, excuse _you_. This is a ton more interesting than you'll ever hope to be."

Spectre grunted a curse and clambered to his feet. "We have a name for people like you. We call them dumbasses." He hurled the ball over his shoulder at Bladewing and stalked off towards the kitchen. The winged boy smiled as the projectile cleared his head by a good two feet and returned his attention to the TV just as Michelle Dubois thrust her hands into an aquarium full of hissing cockroaches.

"I see you've already read today's paper."

Bladewing stifled a dismayed squeak. "I-uh-yeah, I did. Pretty informative stuff, hey?"

"Indeed. Although in times like these there can rather questionable stories towards the beginning of the A section."

"Some days," Bladewing groaned, sliding deeper into his seat. "See that feature on F7? I didn't know you could cook a turkey like that."

"That's not what I was talking about." The television suddenly vanished as half of page A2 was dangled in his face. "'s Nuclear Waste'. I wonder what _that_ story could be about?"

Bladewing forced a grin. "No clue, Terry."

"I told you not to call me that." Terry stomped around one side of the couch, getting between Bladewing and Michelle Dubois' triumphant face. The far shorter boy leaned to one side in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the next challenge, but his boss was just too big at all angles.

"Aw, whazzamatter with Terry? You know I can't even pronounce you real name...Teri-Teru-"

"Terukaima," the huge robot growled icily. "Look, the Boomstick isn't going to build itself. Why don't you go give Rast a hand?"

Bladewing gazed pleadingly up at him. "But I already went and got the uranium-can't I just enjoy a couple of minutes to myself? Plea-whoa, okay. No reason to pull the claws out. Fine, I'll go..."

Terukaima watched him dart down the corridor towards the Big Stick Room where Rast was already hard at work. Bladewing was the one thing he didn't like about leading the Team-cocky young pain in the ass. If Terukaima was ever forced to let anyone go, the human kid with the bionic wings would be the first packing. Sighing, the robot dragon eased himself onto the couch.

"Fear Factor? Christ, Bladewing." Digging the remote out from between the cushions, he looked for a few channels before settling on the Oilers-Kings hockey game with the intent of forgetting about the insanity that was Bladewing.


	2. Escape

**Disclaimer!**   
I sure as hell don't own or am affiliated with Capcom or the Rockman (for the last time, Mega Man!) series of games. Be nice if I would, but I expect that's just wishful thinking. 

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The small door near the end of the hall swung noiselessly open, permitting a short character into the fourth-floor hallway. He stalked down the corridor as quietly as he possible could, his footsteps muffled by the thick green carpeting. He took special care when passing each of the many doors on either side, knowing that if he made one bad move on his journey down the long hallway any of his brothers could wake up and catch him. And if that decided to happen, he could say goodbye to any chance of ever leaving the Manor again. 

He paused three-quarters of the way along. Putting down the backpack slung over one shoulder he scanned the gloom with bright but wary silver eyes. He waited for another moment and whirled, fists up and ready for a fight. However, the hall was empty except for the lampstand he had passed not long before. He ran one hand through his chestnut brown hair, flicking the shoulderblade-length ponytail bound tightly with a white ribbon in perplexion. _Funny...I could've sworn there was somebody-_

Suddenly a powerful arm wrapped itself around his neck from behind. He started to yell but a hand was already over his mouth. He tried to worm out of his captor's grip, but he was already fairly sure of just who was holding him and knew that, if he was right, there was no way on Earth he could break free. 

"What in hell are you doing up this late? It's two-thirty in the morning!" 

He tried his best to move his backpack in front of him so that his body was between it and the sightline of whoever had busted him. "I was-uh-I couldn't sleep." 

The tall boy snorted. "There's no way you possibly could have fought as hard as you did this afternoon and not be tired. Get back to your room and don't let me see you out here again when you're supposed to be out on your bed." 

"Uh...okay. G'night, Forte." 

Forte grunted and let his five-foot-two kid brother loose, watching him walk quickly back towards him room. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was wrong with his appearance. Forte looked the short boy up and down, trying to figure out what was so irregular with his appearance. Wait...since when did his right leg bulge out that far? 

"Raiden! Why the hell have you got a pack?" 

The robot Raiden paused for a moment and then took off for the end of the hall. His older brother swore and gave chase. But Raiden was smaller and could easily outrun the somewhat clumsy Forte, reaching the door to his quarters long before his bionic sibling. Instead of barging inside, though, he went right past it and headed for the picture window at the end of the corridor. In one swift movement he pulled open the large central pane and kicked out the screen, clambering onto the sill and flinging him out into the night, really hoping he would be able to hit the ground alive. He flew outwards for a second or two but a large hand grasped his ankle and he was reeled back in, smacking his nose as he discovered he was hanging flush with the wall sixty feet above the ground with only Forte separating him from a probable deactivation. 

Raiden sighed, the coolant fluid rushing to his head. "Thanks. Dunno what possessed me to do that. You were expecting me to run away, right?" 

He heard a chuckle from above. "You got it. Even Wily didn't think you would try something like this." 

"That's what I thought." There was a short pause. "So, are you going to help me up or what?" 

"Try again. You understand what you were built for, hm?" 

Raiden frowned. Forte was working his way up to something. "I'm your helper in battle. I'm the speed and accuracy of the team." 

"BZZT! Wrong!" Forte growled, shaking his younger brother back and forth. Raiden felt his stomach drop a notch. "You really don't get it, do you? You're not my assistant, you're my goddamn _replacement_. You're everything I'm not-quick, smart, loyal. Wily doesn't want me anymore; I'm too 'unstable'. I could backfire on him at any time. You're in the spotlight now, pal." 

"What the heck are you-oh, hell, you wouldn't..." 

Raiden was quite sure that Forte was grinning wildly. "Hell, I _would_. This is it, Ray. You and I both know you can't take hard impacts to the upper body-your core's too unprotected. But even if you do manage to live somehow, I'll send down a Charged Shot or six to help end the pain. Ready to die, l'il bro?" 

_How much power do I have left?_ Raiden wondered frantically. _I was at half charge earlier when I was sparring with that Sniper Joe...my armor's not on, so I can't check the display...but..._

Quicker than Forte could react, Raiden put his hands on the wall in front of his nose and pushed off as hard as he could. His modest strength sent his lithe frame flying up until he was perpendicular with Forte. Swiftly gathering what electricity he had left into his hands, he sent a blinding blast of ball lightning directly into his brother's eyes. Forte roared in fury and jumped back, covering his face with both hands. 

Raiden suddenly found himself both free and plummeting towards the ground. With inhuman reflexes he reached out until he could graze the wall with his fingertips. Suddenly the second floor window shot up and he grabbed at it frantically, catching onto the bottom sill with one hand. He jerked to an abrupt stop, almost pulling his arms from his body, but at least he hadn't splattered on the far harder ground twenty feet below. He squared his feet on the wall, tensed his leg springs and kicked off, flipping backwards and landing gracefully, the shock absorbers in his ankles and knees doing their jobs quite nicely. He retrieved his pack full of clothes and Energy Tanks from where it had fallen while he had been dangling upside-down and glanced up at the fourth-floor window. 

To his shock he was blasted off his feet by a Charged Shot. 

Scrambling back up, he saw Forte standing like a black-armored monster with its blaster out, red eyes blazing evilly. He was still under the blinding effects of Raiden's ball lightning but was a decent shot anyway. On top of that, windows began to light up as the various Robot Masters Wily had taken the time to rebuild were aroused by the commotion. Knowing he didn't have much time before somebody figured out what was going on and turned on the security field designed to keep things both out and in, effectively trapping him inside the Manor grounds, he took off towards the road. The earth just behind him exploded in a shower of flying dirt and strings of plasma, lending him an extra boost of speed on his quest for the exit. 

He heard the crackle of electricity as he reached the south tower that marked the edge of the security field, clearing it just as the red wall of pure energy sprang up around the Manor property. He sighed in relief, setting into a brisk pace down the dirt road; two seconds too late and he would have been either fried right through to his circuitry by Wily's newest piece of technology or, worse, locked on the Georgina Manor grounds with Forte. It would take them a few minutes to lower the barrier and by then he'd be at the pier, tucked away in some hard-to-reach corner, waiting for sunrise and the first ferry to the mainland. 

Freedom. It was a wonderful word to somebody like Raiden who had been cooped up so long. For most of his life, which totalled up to a paltry eight months, he had been a gopher and a slave to the intentions of his older (and tougher) brothers, not to mention Albert Wily himself. Combat training hadn't gone well either; he was a passable fighter but Forte beat him every time, usually to the very brink of permanent deactivation. Raiden took his own orders now and only death could snatch that privilege away from him. 

It was time for Raiden Wily, the Robot Master of Thunder, to make a name for himself. 


	3. The Emerald

**Disclaimer.**  
I'll tell you again-I don't own Capcom or the Rockman franchise. I'm just plain old me and I'm not connected to any people in high places. 

I don't care how much you complain-in my version of the Rockman world, the currency is Zenny. Dash (Legends, my Americanized readers!) was my first ever game and so I'll just stick with the traditional Zenny.

Oh, and many thanks to moonymonster for all her seriously helpful criticism.I'm happy to enjoy The LIST!

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_4:53 PM Wednesday January 5, 20XX  
Dear Diary: _

There's one thing at the front of my mind right now that is money. My stupid plane ticket alone was almost twelve hundred zenny. At this pace the two thousand five hundred I stole from father Wily won't hold up much longer. And what happens when I run out of Energy Tanks? I'll be reduced to eating human food. Inefficient, I know, but at least it's a source of power.

"Excuse me, sir."

Raiden jumped, his journal flying out of his lap. He glared at the stewardess, who blushed and scooped up the fallen hardcover book, handing it back to him. "I'm sorry. We'll be landing within five minutes. Please buckle yourself up."

The robot grunted in reply and snatched the diary out of her grasp, laying aside his pen and reaching for his seatbelt. Last night had been a rough one, what with getting up at two in the morning and hiding in a fire hall near the Georgina Island dock for five long, cold hours. He had suffered from frequent nightmares and extreme paranoia, thinking every sound he heard was Forte sneaking up from behind to strangle him. In plain English, he was hellishly tired and the last thing he wanted to do was put up with humans wrapped in phony couresty.

_On top of that, my arm isn't helping the mood one bit,_ he wrote. _I once overheard Wily talking about how he had installed a tracking device in my left wrist in case I ever went missing. Well, I found it-about three inches from my wrist on the way to my elbow. I locked myself in the bathroom earlier, ripped it right out and flushed it down the toilet. The wound hasn't stopped leaking whatever the heck is supposed to sub in for my blood and I've had to change the bandage at least once every hour and a half. The navy sweater I stole from Shadow Man hides the whole thing quite well. If only Wily had put in a teleporter instead of a GPS system. _

All right, so I lied. Money isn't the only thing bothering me-there's also the rest of my family. Forte had a point; Wily would take me over him any day. So, naturally, the doctor'll throw a fit halfway across the country when he finds out I'm gone. Of course he'll send most of the Robot Masters out to look for me. If I don't take cover as soon as I reach Lazuli Island, it will only be a matter of time before I'm found.

Raiden sighed and glanced out the window on his right. The Atlantic Ocean was laid out all around him; miles upon miles of crystalline blue water shimmering in the late afternoon sun. It was an absolutely perfect day by his standard: crisp, cloudless and surprisingly mild for early January.

"...sixty pounds, I heard! What on Earth could they want with that?"

"I say it's just a display of their power. A sample of the sort of thing they _can_ do."

"What, relieve us of perfectly useless nuclear garbage?"

"No! It's a warning. They're trying to say that next time it'll be a diamond or a vault."

A hushed conversation from behind him yanked Raiden back into reality. "Humans and their gossip," he growled, briefly considering frying them both with a Death Blast. The Huge Kaboomie (as was Raiden's nickname for the questionable manoeuvre) was Wily's lightning-based pride and joy: a massive electrical explosion reserved for when he was running on zero charge and in a desperate situation. It was basically a sacrifice of his core to blow lots of things up. However, he didn't want to do that any time soon and made a mental note to find somewhere to recharge his power reserves once he got off the plane.

"So, what're they called again? The LISP?"

"Doofus, it's the LIST-Lazuli Island Strike Team. They're simply a load of ragamuffins who kill people and steal stuff, sorta like the Mafia."

"Yeah, kind of...say, why doesn't somebody just nab 'em walkin' down the street?"

"They've tried. There's only one way you can tell if they're in the LIST or not: they have a red triangle with a blue circle inside somewhere on their person."

"So why haven't they arrested them yet? Doesn't Cardulia have a police force?"

"Like hell they do...and they just keep getting totalled by these guys. The American Army sent in what they could scrape together-not much, that is, seeing as we just finished the Wily Wars. But there's just no way."

At that moment the intercom buzzed on, alerting the cabin to the fact that landing would occur in less than two minutes. The pair of men drifted from the subject of crime to the NHL.

_The 'LIST', huh?_ Raiden mused._ Might be something to check out if stuff starts going wrong. I mean, it wouldn't be like back home...in a gang I'll have more choices than I've ever had. And once I make enough money I can just fly out to Eastern Europe. They won't be able to catch me once I've decided to leave._ He smiled. _If Forte couldn't do it, nobody can._

* * *

Eggleton Memorial Airport was despicably crowded. Cardulia wasn't a large country and neither was its international terminal. Raiden slipped through gaps whenever they appeared, hoping that he could reach the doors before he was accidentally crushed by an overweight tourist. The place smelled of almond and human perspiration, which combined were close to overpowering. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a welcome oasis: a small café at the west end of the Arrivals wing with a small forest-green neon sign proclaiming 'The Emerald' blazing on the wall over it. He struggled through the press of people toward the door, forcing it open and almost falling inside. 

The almond scent bordered on eye-watering within the dimly lit restaurant, nearly making Raiden turn around and leave right there. But his energy was low and he doubted he would be able to find a quiet spot long enough to pop in a Tank so he would have to settle for something to eat instead.

He hopped up into one of the four-foot-high leather-capped swivel stools, opening the menu that rested on the tabletop. After a quick scan of its contents he found the cheapest thing, a hundred-zenny coffee, and scribbled his order on the pad of Post-It Notes at his elbow. Ripping off the top sheet, he cast about in confusion for somewhere to put it. Looking around, he saw a tall man in his mid-twenties on the last seat next to the wall, leaning on the counter.

"Er...hey, mister."

The man swung his head around to stare at Raiden. "What?"

"How do I...?" He waved the Post-It in the air.

"Right in front of you."

Raiden glanced back at the table, his eyes falling on the raised silver slot he hadn't noticed before. "Oh." He fed the paper into the hole, watching it disappear into the counter. "Thanks."

"No prob." The man pulled out a cigarette and a bright yellow lighter from inside his jacket. It took three clicks of the metal wheel for the end to catch and he puffed on it contentedly, his dark eyes obscured by his equally dusky hair.

Raiden swung his unnaturally large feet back and forth as he waited. It was uncomfortably warm in The Emerald and he was just about to pull off his sweater when he remembered the bandage on his arm. He pressed his left cheek against the cool marble countertop instead, a bad trade for wearing a short-sleeved shirt in place of the bulky wool pullover which was three sizes too big for him. His sight drifted back to over to the man who, curiously enough, was still in his raven-black trenchcoat. _Maybe he's hiding something too,_ he thought idly, he moving his face to the right as the table under his skin warmed up.

There was a quiet 'ding!' from somewhere behind the wall between Raiden and the kitchen. An almost-invisible door slid up and a small white mug of some steaming black liquid was carried out on a conveyor belt, followed by three packets of sugar and a vial of milk. As was his habit, he ignored the milk and sugar entirely and took a sip, making a face. Nasty, but it contained the jolt he needed.

The man tapped the ashes off his cigarette to the floor, blowing out a long stream of smoke. He stepped off the chair and fed his credit card into the slot, waiting for a moment as it was read and charged. He pushed the card back into the pocket of his jeans, striding across the café and out into the crowded airport. Just as he reached the door, the wind plucked something from within his coat and carried it gently to the linoleum tiles. Raiden leaped off the stool and grabbed the badge, opening his mouth to call the man back. Then he looked down at the palm-sized emblem a second time, eyes wide.

It was a crimson triangle with an azure dot in the middle.

"Well, shit," Raiden said.


	4. Preferably Now

**Holy damned disclaimers!**

Fancy that-I still don't own Rockman. Bwah.

**

* * *

****Chapter Four: Preferably Now**

Raiden paged slowly through the Arts & Entertainment section of the Thursday newspaper, repositioning his rear on the cold pavement and his back on the frigid streetlight pole. The floodlight-bathed old-style analog clock, which he occasionally twisted around to check, read 8:23 PM. The somewhere-south-of-0 degrees Fahrenheit temperature had driven almost every sane person indoors, leaving the young robot virtually alone on the corner of Jordan Street and Hudson Avenue. That was exactly the way Raiden wanted it: very few people were around to try and stop him.

He peered over the top of his paper, searching out suitable prey. There, coming down Hudson toward him-a tall, slim, middle-aged woman with a tiny white puffball of a dog trotting alongside. That mongrel would pose absolutely no problem, of course. The black leather purse she had with her would be easy enough to grab and run with. To top it all off, the way she was dressed screamed that she was loaded.

She got most of the way around the corner but was yanked back by the dog, who wished to closely examine the boy whose nose was buried in the paper. Raiden absently gave the creature a good scratch behind the ears. The woman shot him a quick 'aren't you such a good boy' kind of smile and tugged the dog along. He quietly put the paper down beside him, staring hard at a pair of hands that were slowly turning blue from the cold.

**I can't do this. Stealing from _women?_ That would make me no better than Forte. **

Who cares? People with fat wallets keep me alive. I need whatever's in that purse way more than she does.

Yes, I realize stealing is all I can do right now. But why her? Why not pick on somebody capable of giving me a fair fight?

Because she's right here and that dog's damn well asking for it. If I don't get moving now, I'll lose her.

Raiden got up reluctantly, leaving the A&E section next to the pole. His back groaned silently and proceeded to cramp up after taking such a load while leaning against the cold steel post. He rubbed the small of his back half-heartedly, watching the woman. She had stopped at the next street over, waiting for the light to change and let her cross.

The fifteen-yard journey war far quicker than he expected. Within ten seconds he was right behind her, eyes fixed on the purse. The north-south light turned yellow; it was now or never.

**Preferably now.**

He grabbed a hold of the purse and pulled with everything he had, snapping the bag right off the strap flung over her shoulder. An instant later she turned roughly but Raiden was already haring off towards an alley, which would be a good deal safer than the open street. With yells of "hey, thief!" ringing loudly within his skull he dashed into the deep darkness of the sidestreet only the three-quarter moon overhead lit up.

A few strides in Raiden came face-to-face with a brick wall, effectively blocking his escape. Tipping back his head, he realized with a moan and a curse that it was a good six or seven stories high, way out of his jumping range. The sharp click-click of stilettos on pavement told him that if he dawdled about for much longer he'd be caught and that would be the end of his wonderful freedom.

The woman came racing down the alley, stopping short at the wall and glancing around in confusion. On a sudden whim she looked up, mouth falling open as she saw the purse-thief performing a humanly impossible set of wall jumps between the left and right buildings. With a final, apologetic wave he disappeared onto the left roof.

She closed her mouth slowly, shook her head in disbelief and went back the way she had come.

* * *

The contents of the purse spilled across the rooftop. Raiden sat back on his haunches and sorted through it with one hand. Lipstick, address book, cell phone, Kleenex, nail polish, wallet. He picked this last item up, opening it and automatically delving into the cash pocket. With a mixture of joy and guilt he counted out the bills. 6000...7000...10, 700...12, 200 zenny total. Only the small change pocket held anything else of value (65 zenny in coin); the first thing that woman would do when she got home was cancel all of her credit cards. But there was no way to void zenny, so he could do what he wanted with that. 

Stuffing almost everything back into the purse, he tossed the black bag to the side and tucked the wallet into his pocket. A productive night, to say the very least-twelve thousand zenny would be enough to last him for three weeks, provided he stick to his diet of coffee and whatever happened to be the cheapest at where he chose to eat. He had developed a habit of switching eateries every meal to prevent people from matching his face to the description of the boy who had robbed the old man early yesterday morning.

"HEY!"

With a surprised yell, Raiden was suddenly pushed forward. A hand swiftly inserted itself into his pocket and pulled out the wallet. Raiden scrambled onto his hands and knees, kicking out blindly with one foot. His heel met something soft and fleshy, which emitted a pained grunt and shied away. He leaped to his feet and spun around furiously, instinctively calling a good dose of electricity from his internal storage block to his hands. His attacker looked only a bit older than the Wilybot and was humanoid in shape, with the exception of a pair of large metal blade-covered wings. The boy looked amazed at Raiden's swift recovery and snapped in his wings as he got up, tensing his legs much like the robot did when he was preparing for a jump. Realizing he was setting up for an escape, Raiden flipped a tiny switch on the inside of his wrist.

There was a quiet '_shing!_' as a horizontal pole of white light materialized in front of him and caught it as gravity dragged it toward the ground. Just like him, Raiden's weapon had been constructed from parts that belonged to many different robots; his staff, which he had lovingly nicknamed the Triple Spear, was essentially Enker's lance with a coat of navy paint and a silver version of Tengu Man's blades on top. Raiden's only gripe about the weapon was that Forte had always laughed that him calling it up looked like a scene straight out of _Cardcaptor Sakura_.

He darted forward just as the winged boy launched himself skyward, one arm shooting up and snatching an ankle. Quickly losing the sensation of the roof under his feet he swung the Triple Spear up in a wide arc and buried one blade deep into the side of the boy's knee. He roared in agony and lost his aerial balance, plummeting back down and dragging Raiden along with him. The nimble Wilybot dove out of the way a quarter of a second before he was soundly squashed by the falling boy's back, which crashed hard into the hard cement of the flat roof. Doubling back, Raiden heaved the staff out of his leg.

The Robot Master stood next to his fallen opponent, the rightmost point of the Triple Spear hovering just over the winged boy's throat. Frightened green eyes met furious silver ones. Raising the Triple Spear high into the air, he turned it around until the top blade was pointing down and let it fall.

The boy jerked his head away, waiting for the horrible explosion of pain in his chest. It never came. Instead he felt a small jolt run down his left wing and travel through his body. Slowly he brought his face back around to see what Raiden had done and saw that the Triple Spear was still quivering from its forceful embedding in the middle of the boy's wing. The robot folded his arms.

"Give it back."

The boy miserably extracted the wallet from the pocket of his spring jacket, his fingers clenched protectively around it as he held it out. Raiden took swift aim, kicking both the back of the boy's hand and the wallet. The latter sailed through the air, only to be grabbed roughly in mid-flight. Raiden stowed it in his back pocket.

"You have exactly five seconds to tell me who you are before I blow the First Law of Robotics entirely and slice your head off."

"I...I don't have to tell you anything. Lemme go."

Raiden killed the flow of electricity and viciously slammed his foot down on the offender's chest, forcing out a breathless squeak of shock. Ripping the staff out of his wing, he leaned one of the blades against his forehead. "Yes, you do. And no."

"You'll be sorry if you knock me off!" He half-yelled, eyes bulging. "My friends'll find you and make sure you die slow!"

Raiden grinned cruelly and applied a small amount of pressure to the Triple Spear, a narrow red line forming on the boy's skin. "Friends, huh? And just who might they be? Happen to have anything to do with... this ?" He cast around in the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the triangular emblem he had found two days ago, waving it in the air over his prisoner's face.

"What if I am, bit-chhhhhhh!"

He gasped and clawed at his throat, where the sharp edge of Raiden's weapon bit into his skin.

"Never," he growled in a deep tone that reminded him horrible of Forte's, "_ever_ call me a bitch."

"I'll call you what I like, bitch!"

Then things all happened very fast.

The boy grabbed thetitanium shaft of the Triple Spear and pushed it away from him, cracking Raiden smartly under the jaw. The robot stumbled backwards in surprise, his staff slipping out of his hand and clattering against the roof. The winged boy was up in a second, hurling himself into Raiden and sweeping him off his feet. The full realization of what was happening hit the Robot Master like a bolt of lightning and he acquainted his attacker's face with his fist, digging his toes into his stomach and flipping him head-over-heels onto his back.

But the boy wasn't down yet. Rocketing to his feet and brushing the blood away from the corner of his mouth, he snatched two blades off each wing. Taking care to keep them away from himself, he flung them at a dazed and enraged Raiden. The robot saw the moonlight-bathed knives just in time to heave his entire body out of the way of the first. He knocked the second down with his Triple Spear, angling himself so that the third whizzed past his ear. But the last one was just a bit too quick for him and buried himself deep into his shoulder.

The boy started, obviously never having somebody block the majority of that particular attack before. Then, he whirled and sped off across the rooftop, snapping his damaged wings open and barely managing to soar over an alleyway. Raiden didn't try to follow, holding his injured shoulder and watching as the boy fled southwest.

_You run,_ he thought darkly, poking at the switch on his wrist and dismissing his Triple Spear. _You tell your friends. But if they get in my way I hope they don't treat me the same way you did, Bladewing. Or I might just have to get nasty._

He patted his back pocket, then stopped. He had been so intent on the butt of the Triple Spear nearly breaking his synthetic jaw that his attention had departed from the pilfered wallet entirely. An expression of horror spread across his face as he realized he'd been had.

"BITCH!"


	5. The Recruit

**The Disclaimer!**   
Rockman. Not. Mine. Bah.

* * *

"Did you hear something?" 

Spectre shook his head lazily, snatching the remote off the arm of his chair and switching to the Speed channel. 

"No, I'm sure I heard something breaking downstairs. Glass." 

Spectre snorted. "Probably just Bladewing walking into something again. Don't worry about it." 

"But Bladewing is with Rast and Terry in the Room." He motioned down the carpeted hall that connected the common room to the lab. "Mizuri's off at wherever the heck he is this time of week. There's nobody else downstairs." 

"Mizuri coming back early and falling-down drunk, then." 

"He comes in the back way, remember? The fire escape by the Room." 

"Hell, Thor, your ears must be acting up again. If you're going to freak about people breaking in, go be paranoid with Rast." 

The robot in his late teens known as Thor glared and ruefully forsook the comfort of the overstuffed saffron couch. "The Boss appreciates those who take the initiative to go check things out more than those who take the initiative to sit on their asses all day." 

Spectre's eyes never left the television screen. "Bite me." 

"No thanks. I might have rabies." Thor stalked out of the common room, drifting down the stairs toward the ground floor of the refurbished warehouse. 

The place was packed to bursting with stacks of crates full of parts for the Boomstick. One corner of the building was devoted to two separate holding columns for the uranium and the thessium-the rare moon rock stolen by Spectre from the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. A number of bunk beds were clustered against the back wall, the large albeit broken glass skylight above them spilling moonbeams onto the freshly washed sheets. 

Wait a minute..._broken_? 

Thor jogged over to the sleeping quarters, ready to switch to his battle armor and Storm Hammer (the very large hammer filled with lead mounted on a thought-controlled robotic arm attached to his back to curl up over his shoulder) at any moment. 

Pieces of glass littered the cold concrete, many of them stained with a dark blood-like liquid. Viscous droplets of it led away from the mess, winding around back of a small heap of boxes. Thor tiptoed over, pausing for a second to listen. All he could hear was his own thumping heart. He took a deep breath, switched to his purple medieval-style plate armor and sidestepped behind the crates. 

Nothing. 

Thor glanced about in confusion. The blood was concentrated in one area behind the boxes-if you can call a larger amount of droplets than usual a 'concentration'-but that was all. 

There was a stifled groan from above and his eyes drifted upward to a steel beam overhead. 

"What the _hell_?" 

The intruder was an average-sized boy around twelve years old. He was wearing a navy blue jumpsuit with large yellow boots, an oval pad on his chest of the same color and a glove on each hand, the left one white and the right one red. There was a narrow black belt around his waist, inverted pentagons of metal hanging from the front and back and small steel triangles dangling on his left and right. His helmet was smooth and navy, open at the front and dropping down to cover his ears, the sides of and the back of his head. His armor and his face were riddled with scratches from the window's glass. 

He crouched on one of the many horizontal I-beams that helped keep the roof up, eyes fixed on the tall platinum-blond robot below. He stiffened as Thor saw him, one hand flying to the three-bladed spear slung points-down across his back. 

They stared at each other for a brief moment, one feeling the other's fear and the second the other's surprise. 

"SPECTRE!" 

The boy was off in a second, dashing along the beam. Thor cursed darkly and gave chase, trying but miserably failing to keep up with him. The intruder had reached the hole he had made not long ago, hopping off the I-beam that ended at the broken skylight and tensing his legs. 

All of a sudden he was thrown with a yell behind a stack of crates. Thor nearly sighed in relief; Spectre would take care of things from here on in. The smaller boy grappled with his invisible attacker, clearly confused and frightened at this new turn of events. Thor grinned as he rounded the corner; the poor kid didn't stand a chance. 

Spectre was in his element, landing punches from one side and moving to a new one when the intruder blindly retaliated. The boy was abruptly slammed on the head and his knees crumpled. Thor stepped forward and, seizing his shoulderblade-length ponytail, yanked him to his feet. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Spectre asked, rematerializing beside Thor. The boy's eyes widened slightly. 

"You're the guy from the café in the airport!" 

Spectre laughed humorlessly. "Ah, right. Found my emblem, did you?" 

His response was cut off by metal footsteps on a concrete floor. Thor and Spectre glanced at each other. "You're in for it now," the latter snickered. "Here comes Terry and he don't sound too happy!" 

"Who's Terry...?" the intruder began nervously. His question was answered as a huge, dark figure stepped under the skylight. 

Terry was a robotic dragon twelve feet long, five feet tall at the shoulder when on all fours and seven feet around at the widest point. Unlike Thor and Spectre, he hadn't been outfitted with synthetic skin; his vital circuitry was clumsily sheathed in steel cylinders and spheres instead. His body was one eight-foot forest-green cylinder, occasionally punctuated by rivets holding pieces of sheet metal together. His neck was a pair of short black cylinders linked by a round joint while his head was a silver sphere with burning red eyes on the front and a contraption much like a bear trap for jaws. 

His legs were grey, powerful cylinders, joined by spherical knee-like coupling with large three-clawed feet at the ends. His back legs were much larger than the front ones, since he stood and walked on them. His tail was just as green and half as long as his body, made up of several telescoping cylinders. AT the end was a large steel ball erratically studded with long, slightly rusted spikes. The skeleton metal of his large wings were midnight-black and the membrane was a deep crimson. 

Thor held the intruder at arm's length, still supporting him by the hair. Terry leaned forward to sniff at the boy, who scowled back rebelliously. 

"What's your name?" Terry growled softly, his voice hollow and metallic. 

"None of your business!" Thor's prisoner snapped back. "Lemme go!" 

"Well, None of Your Business," the robot dragon muttered, extracting a grin from Thor, "It's impossible to do that, really. You've found our _secret_ hideout and if we let you run free, you'll end up telling somebody where we live. Can't have that, can we?" 

"Aw, go screw yourself!" the boy half-screamed, electricity springing to his hands. Spinning viciously, he smashed his fist deep into Thor's stomach. The purple robot doubled over in pain as three thousand volts shot through his body. Terry reached out to grab the intruder but he was already out of reach, running for the front doors instead of the skylight. There was a loud whoosh of wings from behind but he ignored it and kept going. 

Suddenly the robot dragon soared over him, dropping to the ground six feet ahead of him. The boy skidded to a stop, tearing his three-bladed spear off his back. Terry turned to face him, his huge metal body between the boy and the exit. Spectre and a recently recovered Thor dashed into place behind the intruder. There was no way he could take all three of them at the same time. 

"S-so, what're you gonna do with me?" he inquired, trying to keep his voice steady. "Shut me up for good?" 

Terry gave a snort. "Of course not-you're too valuable to waste. The LIST could always use a new bargaining chip." 

"You don't mean...?" His eyes narrowed, then shot to full size. "No way!" 

"Yes way." 

"Not on your life, iguana ass!" 

Terry gave a very loud, very fake sigh. "But if the subject is unwilling, we could always use the option you suggested. Now pick one-will you stay or be deactivated and dismantled for parts?" 

"Well, I..." He moaned and let his head droop. "I'll stay." 

"Good. You will refer to me as Terukaima or Boss and NEVER Terry." He shot a meaningful glare at Spectre and Thor, who tried their best to look innocent. "What is your name, boy?" 

"Raiden, _sir_." He spat out the second word like a live spider. 

"Hmph." Terukaima sat down, much like a dog would. "Who built you?" 

Raiden grinned suddenly; he had just found his Ace of Spades. "Doctor Albert William Wily." 

There was utter silence in the bottom floor of the warehouse for a moment. Terukaima shook his head in disbelief. "...Raiden. I am about to say two words that, behind which, are the most emphasis I have ever put on a phrase. Bull_shit_." 

"No, really!" The triumphant smile still on his face, Raiden dismissed his armor and turned his back to the dragon. He pulled up Shadow Man's sweater and the shirt underneath halfway up, revealing five words clearly stamped on the small of his back in Copperplate 16 Bold. 

_Property of Dr. Albert Wily._

"Wily sent me to-recover something for him," Raiden said, barely missing a beat. Barely. "There are currently four Robot Masters, one of them my older brother Forte, on their way. If I don't show outside in five minutes, they'll storm the place and blow it sky-high. Wily told me earlier that he doesn't need sludge like you mucking up his plans." 

"Oh, really?" Spectre suppressed a laugh. "Then why would he send you alone if he knew the kinds of dangerous criminals hanging around in here?" 

Raiden blinked. Oh crap. "I'm...uh...expendable?" 

Terukaima abruptly lunged, wrapping one set of claws around Raiden's throat and hauling him into the air until they were eye-to-eye, the Wilybot's toes dangling ten feet off the ground. "If there is one thing I cannot tolerate from those below me, it is a lie. Contrary to popular belief, I am _not_ an idiot. If you wish to keep your fragile head on your puny shoulders, I would advise that you avoid fibbing to me." 

"Boss!" Thor shouted, taking one unconscious step forward. "Leave him alone! Terukaima, he's just a first timer. Strike one, man! Let it slide!" 

The dragon seemed to consider for a moment. "Fine," he hissed, letting the boy fall. Thor caught him before he hit the ground, setting him down on his feet. 

"Thanks," Raiden muttered, gracing Thor with a curt nod. The taller robot put an arm around the other's shoulders, leading him away from Terukaima. Raiden felt the dragon's eyes on his back but pretended not to notice-he wasn't going to let some fat lizard tell him what to do. He'd killed the stupid bastard on his way out if he needed to. Seven and a half thousand volts through his body was all he needed to be floored long enough for Raiden- 

"He gets the storeroom off the second-floor hall." Terukaima flicked his tail irritably. "There are some cots in there he can use. Be use to double-lock the door behind the little bugger." 

Raiden suddenly stopped short. Thor halted as well, having a good idea of what was coming next. "What am I supposed to do to keep myself busy, then?" 

That made Terukaima think for a minute. "Tell you what-you can think of all the ways in which I could brutally torture and subsequently kill you if you try to run away." 

"I-" Raiden cut himself off at a sharp glance from Thor. "Whatever." He tramped away with the purple-armored robot alongside. 

"You okay, kiddo? Only pick a fight with the Boss if you feel like being shredded." 

"Er...yeah. Got it. What's your name again?" 

"Thor. It's Thor." 

It was just like what Raiden had hoped a week ago on the plane; he was part of the Lazuli Island Strike Team whether he liked it or not. 


	6. Setbacks on the Western Front

**Disclaimer!** Lord, I'm getting tired of these...   
Me own Rockman. No? Damn.

* * *

There was a quiet knock at the door. Raiden ignored it and rolled onto his side with his back to the hallway outside, intent on stewing in his own misery until he finally kicked the bucket. 

"...Raiden? You awake?" 

He groaned but didn't directly answer. Thor was the only person he even remotely liked in the whole complex but Raiden didn't want to see even the American robot. 

"I'm coming in. Make sure you have pants on." 

Raiden checked. He did. 

There was a flurry of beeps as Thor typed in the passcode on the wall-mounted keypad. With a hiss of hydraulics the door slid back. Raiden felt Thor behind him and saw the shadow thrown across the floor. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, little guy? You haven't taken a single Energy Tank in two days. Gone suicidal or what?" 

"Oh, good job. Did you figure that out all by yourself?" Raiden's voice was weak from lack of power. 

Thor eased his six-foot frame down next to the Wilybot's back. "Yep. Smart, aren't I?" 

"If you're here to make me load a Tank, you're wasting your time." 

"Nah, it's not that. Everybody else's off on an attack and I drew the short straw. Stuck watching you." He was silent for a moment. "You know what I think of you? I think you're pretty cool." 

That piqued Raiden's attention. "Why?" 

"Not many people have the balls to stand up to Terry. You Wilybots either have a lot of guts or you're just all damn stupid." 

"Probably the second." He paused. "What's it like being around a Robot Master?" 

"No different than being around anyone else. Who put ya together doesn't matter." 

"Who built you, Thor?" 

He didn't answer at first. "The Government of the United States of America. I was nicknamed Project Robocop." 

Raiden couldn't help but chuckle. "Robocop? Then what the heck are you doing in a street gang?" 

There was no response. Finally the Wilybot turned over to face the other robot, who stared drearily up at the nondescript stucco ceiling. 

"Sorry. You don't have to answer that if-" 

"Terukaima told me that I was fighting a terrorist when I got totalled by a guided missile from behind," he ploughed on recklessly, completely ignoring Raiden's apology. "Spectre scooped up what was left of me and the guys put me back together. Got completely reprogrammed while I was at it." 

"Why did Terukaima tell you that? He could have hit a good memory of before and you'd be out of here quicker than anything." 

Thor moaned and leaned against the wall, letting his head fall forward onto his chest. "But there _aren't_ any. The States just abandoned me when I got blown up. They didn't care-the went and built another me." 

"Sorta like me, I guess." 

Thor shot Raiden a sidelong glance. "Whaddya mean?" 

"I...nothing." 

"Come on-I told you mine. Please?" 

Raiden sighed, took a deep breath and began his story.

* * *

"And _why_ the hell would he be in a garbage facility?" 

Forte folded his arms. "How would I know, Tengu? The kid's a lunatic. With any luck he fell into the neutralizer and got fried." 

Gospel gave a bark of agreement. 

"I'll fly over and unlock it," Tengu Man said. 

"No need." Forte summoned his buster, gave it three seconds to charge and released the blast. The chain-link gate was blown right off its hinges, hitting the gravel with a loud clatter. 

Tengu Man glared accusingly at Forte. "Well done. Why not fire some more warning shots into the sky to make sure everyone knows we're here, hm?" 

"Oh, stuff it. All we have to do is run in, grab Raiden and run out. Two-minute job. Easy." He started forward, Gospel loping alongside. "But if you wanna go home now and tell everybody you wussed out, I won't mind." 

Tengu Man swore under his breath and followed his brother. 

The whole concept of dumping garbage into a landfill had been abandoned years ago in favour of a new type of waste management: plasma incineration. Garbage is collected, taken to a transfer station and is then delivered to the state (or province) facility, where it is dropped into a large vat and totally annihilated by a high-power plasma ray. 

Like the Maine one our three friends are busy 'infiltrating', a facility is rarely more than two miles around with exceptions in New York and Texas. Inside the electrified chain link fence is a massive holding tank garbage is initially deposited in, a long glass-encased conveyer belt that ferries it from the tank to the stout tower where the incineration process takes place and a small shed where the plasma-making machines are housed. 

Forte whipped out the radar, a blue device that looked an awful lot like a handheld gaming system. Tengu Man peered at the screen over Forte's shoulder, his mask's nose nearly touching it. 

"Isn't the from the holding tank?" 

Now it was Forte's turn to be sarcastic. "Tengu's unstoppable genius strikes again! Watch out, Raiden, Einstein Man's on the case. Indeed, ladies and germs, here we have a regular Sherlock-" 

"Shut up," Tengu Man snapped, giving Forte a whack on the side of the head with his nose and stalking off toward the holding vat. The tank was a shiny silver missile silo with the conveyor belt running out of the bottom, carrying large piles of garbage to the incinerator. After a small amount of searching, Gospel found a ladder built into the side of the vat with a service door at the top. Forte immediately leaped onto the first rung and started to scramble upward. Tengu Man watched him, suddenly hit by an idea. Making sure his aim was right, he fired a Tornado Hold at the base of the ladder. 

Forte was instantaneously snapped up by the vortex like a Polish town by Hitler. Tengu Man couldn't help but wince as Forte crashed to the ground. Gospel snarled and lunged at Tengu Man, who simply dodged out of the way and aimed a kick at the dog's ribs. 

"What the hell are you _doing_, asshat?!" Forte demanded as he got up. "You're supposed to be beating the snot out of Raiden, not me!" 

Tengu Man shook his head as if in defeat. "He's probably gone by now, anyways. There's no way he could have missed the sound of a hollow skull on asphalt!" 

"Why, you-!" Forte ripped out his blaster, launching a barrage of shots at Tengu Man. He leaped into the air, letting the wind catch him and hold him above the line of fire. Suddenly he did a midair backflip and soared down towards his brother. Forte was about to dive out of the way when Tengu Man grabbed him around the throat and tossed him into the sky. Suspending Forte with another Tornado Hold, Tengu Man flew up until the two were level and punched him in the nose with everything he could muster. The force of it pushed Forte straight out of the cyclone to be stopped short by the wall of the silo. Something blue fell out of his hand and headed for the ground at breakneck speed. 

"_The radar_!" Tengu Man and Forte howled in unison. 

Tengu Man went into a perfectly vertical dive but the device was already too far ahead. All of a sudden Gospel shot past under him and landed squarely on all fours, the radar in his mouth. 

Tengu Man pulled up just in time to prevent slamming into the ground. Forte finished his slide down the tower to the pavement, his armor screeching against the metal and leaving a long black skidmark behind. Gospel dropped the radar in his lap. Tengu Man landed not far away. 

"And that's what you get for calling me names, asshat." 

However, Forte wasn't paying attention to either the other Master or his violently bleeding nose, his eyes fixed on the radar screen. "Tengu, he's moving." 

Tengu Man stiffened. "What?" 

"No, this can't be right...but...he's on the conveyor belt!" 

Forte, Tengu Man and Gospel all turned to stare at the belt. The heaps of garbage were four and a half feet high at the tallest and six feet across at the widest-more than big enough to conceal a robot. Especially a certain shrimpy, smartmouthed, ponytailed one. 

Forte checked the radar and pointed. 

"He's in there!" 

Forte and Tengu Man leaped at the conveyor belt, smashing their arms through the glass and tearing indicated pile to shreds but the heap held nothing of value except a small but very familiar device that looked a lot like the radar. 

Forte stopped his mad assault, picking it up. "This looks like..." 

"Raiden's tracker," Tengu Man finished dully. "Damn it, the moron's outwitted us." 

Forte stared at the gadget in his hand, the other one clenched into a fist at his side. Tengu Man prodded him on the shoulder. 

"Er, Forte...? We should go and report to-" 

With a ferocious scream Forte wound up and hurled the mechanism at the side of the holding tank, where it bounced off with a noisy _clang_! and shattered on the asphalt. 

"Shit! I'll kill that goddamned little _bastard_!" 


	7. Low on the Ladder

Funny thing about this chapter-I was so proud of it that I asked my English teacher if I could submit it to my school portfolio. Which was all good with her. But then I inquired as to what I should do about all the swearing. She suggested that I edit it out somehow. So I asked my buddy about it and she offered up the word 'porridge'. So the radio edit version (as I like to call the censored version) had all of the bad words replaced with porridge. Lots o' fun, I assure you.

* * *

"Honey, I'm _hooooooome!_" Mizuri shouted playfully up the stairs, waving his katana madly above his head. Terukaima dodged out of the flying blade's path, glaring at the minute-by-comparison human. 

"Watch where you're swinging that and go get the converter hooked up."

Thor came downstairs to meet the raiding party. Spectre was the first to notice him. "How's the kid doing? Tried to kill you yet?"

"Nope. We chatted for a bit, then he fell asleep. Popped in a Tank without him knowing."

There was the ear-wrenching squeal of unoiled wheels as Rast brought in the stolen converter on a dolly. He was a bit of an oddball robot, being only three feet tall and equipped with huge, spadelike digging hands way out of proportion with his furry brown body and thick Mexican accent. "Ey, Thor! Gimme a hand takin' dees upstairs, will yah?"

Thor easily grabbed the six-hundred pound converter with one hand, thumping up the first two stairs. "What the hell is this thing, anyway?"

Mizuri snickered. "Master converter for the Boomstick. Load the moon-rock and the uranium into that sucker-it'll have an allergic reaction and produce the ion charge, which will get ferried up into the Boomstick proper. Then the-"

"All right!" Thor yelled, stomping up the rest of the staircase. "I can smell my brain smoking. Enough with the technobabble!"

Raiden, who had been listening with his ear pressed against the door of the storage room, sighed and grinned. He was mad at Thor for ending his energy strike by recharging him while he was asleep, of course, but he understood the American robot meant well. He heard shuffling footsteps as Thor lugged the ion converter-whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to mean-down the hall, the hiss and click as the door to the Room opened. After a minute or so it closed again and Thor passed once more, en route for the stairs.

"Terry, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Metal feet clunked up the concrete steps, the swish of a tail following. "I would really appreciate it if you got off the nickname habit."

"Right, Boss."

"That's better. What's the matter, Thor?"

"Well, uh...c'mon, let's go sit down in the common room."

They moved away from the door but Raiden's robotic audio systems could still pick up their voices.

"I was talking to Raiden while you guys were out."

"That's nice. I don't care."

"I got some info out of him. He actually ran away from Wily's lab."

_What the hell are you doing?!_ Raiden thought furiously. _I trusted you with my life story and then you pass it off to Terukaima like a nursery rhyme? Stupid American bastard!_

"Why?"

"His brothers used to pick on him and beat him up."

"And he crashed through our skylight because...?"

"Apparently Bladewing stole a wallet off him a few days ago. He followed Spectre all the way here to try and get it back."

"So he wants the money? That's it?"

"Basically."

"And what did you tell him in return?"

"Nothing important-just what you said about how you found me. What're we going to do with him, Terr-er, Boss?"

"The city's got a few parts we'll need. Hostage situation'll do the trick nicely."

It was an extra second before Thor responded. "...no."

"I beg your pardon?" Terukaima's voice was deep and menacing.

"You heard me! Hostage? I don't _think_ so!"

"Who are you to be giving me orders?" Terukaima's words escalated to a roar. "Remember your place! Remember who you owe your life to!"

"Look, I'm tired of all this bullshit about how I owe you, man! I'm gonna make a choice for myself-the first one in my life-and I choose not to let you use Raiden!"

"Dammit!"

"Terry, wha-"

"Shut _up_!"

"AAAAAUGH!"

Thor's scream pierced Raiden straight through the heart. _No!_ he thought frantically as his central processor settled on one horrible scenario. _No-Terukaima killed him! He killed him because he was sticking up for me! Thor, no! Thor!!_

There was total silence for a long moment. Terukaima then stomped over to the door of the storeroom, slamming the button to open it. Raiden hadn't been able to get his weight off it in time and fell to the floor ear-first.

Thor was lying next to the couch, his back to Raiden, the carpet around his head beginning to stain black.

"That's what happens if someone _attempts_ to give me an order!" Terukaima growled, motioning in the direction of the fallen robot. "Make sure you know where you are on the ladder."

He turned to Spectre, Rast and Bladewing, who were knotted together at the top of the stairs. "None of you touch Thor until he apologizes to me, unless you feel up to being gutted like a fish. Make sure Mizuri knows I want Thor to suffer for his subordination."

They nodded as one, turned and left. Terukaima wheeled to face Raiden. "Same goes for you. I don't care what he says-you are our brand new hostage. You're poisoning Thor's mind, so I have to get rid of you somehow. Keep away from him until then."

There was a sudden crash from the lab at the end of the corridor, followed by a long string of curses. "Boss, we got a problem!" Mizuri yelled.

With a huff of impatience, Terukaima dropped onto all fours and loped down the hall.

Raiden waited until he was gone, then dashed over to his friend and dropped to his knees beside him.

"Thor..."

The American robot let out a tiny whimper of agony, raising one hand to shelter his face.

"Thanks for sticking up for me."

"He told you to stay away. He'll kill you."

"Do you think I care? You stood up for me and got hurt. The least I can do is make sure you're still alive."

Raiden thought he saw him smile.

"What did that bitch do to you? Lemme see."

"No!" Thor cried abruptly. "Raiden, just...don't. Go back to your room-I'll lock the door behind you. My face looks like shit, I know it does. Don't get yourself killed for no reason."

"Thor! _Please_!"

He groaned, realizing arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere. "All right..."

With an excruciating amount of care, Thor turned his head around as he sat up. Raiden stifled a dismayed squeak. Terukaima's claws had found purchase in Thor's face, leaving a trio of diagonal rents in his skin. Thankfully his eyes had been spared, but upon closer inspection one would discover with a great jerk of the stomach that the metal structure of his head could be seen through the gashes. Blood had covered his face, soaked into his shirt and had made a permanent stain in the carpet.

"I'm...gonna go apologize," Thor sighed, painfully getting to his feet. Raiden nailed him with a disapproving stare.

"You're sure?"

Thor looked flustered, bright blue eyes glinting angrily through the blood. "Well, excuuuuuse _me_, Princess. Your face isn't quite hacked up enough for you to be saying anything!"

Raiden's head drooped. "You're right-I'm sorry. Thanks again."

Thor looked down at the smaller robot, a small grin sneaking across his face. "No problem whatsoever, little buddy."


	8. Blueprints

**Sorry this one took so long, you lot. I had some writer's block going on with this story and I was working on another crossover one with my friend (which, at some point, probably will include the major characters from The LIST). In other news, I got a fancy sketchbook and some even fancier acrylic paints for Christmas. I plan to have the poster for this story done by the beginning of February.**

* * *

Raiden had never enjoyed waiting. Nowhere in his programming was it written that he should be happy sitting still. He always had to be moving, always had to be doing _something_. 

However, waiting was all he could do right now. 

Raiden sat on an ancient milk crate in the storeroom, staring at each wall of his prison in turn. _Soon,_ he kept telling himself in his head. _Soon. Soon I can go. Soon I can get out of here. Soon I can be free again._

He judged it to have been four hours or so since Terukaima had lost control of his temper. As far as Raiden knew, Thor was still in the Room having Mizuri fix his face back up. Not much longer until everybody except the night watch in the common room outside-he was pretty sure it was Rast today-had gone downstairs. 

He glanced at the air conditioning duct in the way every once in a while, sizing it up over and over. The fit would be iffy, but Raiden was nearly positive he would make it through. Still, he had felt the same way before-nearly positive that he would escape Georgina Manor undetected, nearly positive he would reclaim the money Bladewing stole from him. 'Nearly positive' didn't say much anymore. 

Raiden heard Japanese (Kanji, to be precise) singing heading through the common room toward the stairs. He automatically started ruling out possibilities: Spectre didn't know Japanese, Terukaima was confined to English and Rast couldn't stand it. Thor was probably in no mood whatsoever after his telling-off to be singing, so that left Mizuri. The last person on the second floor aside from the night watch. 

"'Ey Mizuree, could yah check on thee prizner, greengo?" 

"Do I have to?" 

"Yep." 

"Crap. Fine." 

Mizuri tapped in the passcode that Terukaima said was going to change the next morning and glanced around the storeroom to make sure that Raiden hadn't broken anything. "All clear, Rast." 

"Gudd. Thanks." 

The door slid closed. 

"Wait!" 

After a second's hesitation it opened again. "Yes?" 

"Er...how's Thor doing?" 

Mizuri donned his lop-sided, 'demented clown' grin. "You'll never know it was there by nine in the morning tomorrow. I'm damn good at that kind of thing." 

He locked the door and left. Raiden waited until he was long gone and turned to the grate over the air duct in the far corner of the room, next to a shelf stacked high with old manuals and car parts. _All right! No more waiting!_

Keeping in mind that the slightest suspicious noise would screw him over, Raiden activated the tiny magnets embedded in the ends of his two index fingers. They were extremely powerful despite their size and the grate was galvanized steel, proven by pressing his forefingers against it and having quite a time of trying to remove his north-polarized right one again. The whole warehouse was pretty old, seeing as it hadn't yet upgraded to titanium ductwork and water-fuelled air conditioning. 

There were four screws securing the grill to the wall. He worked on one at a time, holding his finger a tenth of an inch from the top of a screw and making swift counterclockwise circles, pulling outward at it followed the magnet and dropped into the hand under it when it came free. The first three were almost eager to come out but the last was rusted and took a great deal of scratching at with his fingernails before it was ready to try. 

The sickening familiar flurry of beeps on the keypad outside caught Raiden totally off-guard. Within two seconds Thor was towering in the doorway, the three scars still visible on his face. 

It was all far too obvious. Raiden kneeling in front of the grate, three of the screws on the floor next to him, the rust from the fourth on the floor around him. 

_Oh shit_, he thought. _And here's the end of _this_ little expedition._

"Everything all right in here?" 

Raiden stared wordlessly at Thor, mentally demanding what the hell he was doing. Thor stared right back, mouthing the words 'Say something!' 

"Uh-yeah. Thanks." 

"Cool. Night, Ray." 

"Good night." 

The door closed. Raiden kept his eyes fixed on the same spot where Thor's face had been for a full minute. Then he let out a long breath, a smile creeping onto his face. _Thor, you rock._

Within fifteen seconds the last screw was out and the grate was off. With one final sweep around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything-there was nothing much to leave behind, anyway-he poked his head into the duct. 

And instantly discovered he was immensely claustrophobic. 

The silver walls were everywhere at once-up, down, left, right, so close and small and menacing and evil and oh God they were going to squish him and kill him and he was going to die a horrible screaming death in a air conditioning vent and- 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, thoroughly shaken. This was a new feeling-then again, he had never been encased in something as impossibly narrow as the duct was. Funny he hadn't felt it on the plane-it probably only kicked in during really tight squeezes. 

_...are robots even _allowed_ to be claustrophobic?_ his thought core inquired. 

_No, they're not,_ his logic center told it firmly. _Just ignore it and keep going. Soon we'll be out of here forever._

"Makes sense," Raiden muttered as he began to pull himself forward. 

He had been crawling along for roughly half a minute when he came to a ninety-degree left turn. With a large amount of exertion and cursing he managed to squeeze himself around, although he ripped his shirt twice on the sharp corner and got his ponytail caught on a rouge screw. 

A little ways further he arrived at a fork; he had a choice between right or straight. Raiden closed his eyes and looked the warehouse over in his mind. Off to the right was the main floor and the sleeping quarters, where most of the LIST was at the moment. Straight ahead was...well, he wasn't quite sure what. 

It would be way too dangerous to try and follow the right passage; one accidental bang on the wall would be hugely amplified in the big, echoey warehouse. That left one option. He continued onward, keeping his claustrophobia sealed in the back of his mind. He would use the right corridor if the other didn't pay off. 

One more left turn at he was at another grate. He peered through the metal slots to make sure that nobody was in the room. It seemed to be half as long as the warehouse was wide and about twenty feet from floor to ceiling. Lengthy wooden tables covered in pencils and papers were scattered haphazardly around the room. At the far end was a stainless steel counter Raiden recognized as a repair table; he had been on the one in Wily's lab enough times to identify it at a glance. On the wall opposite the air duct was a fair-sized window. 

The mystery room at the end of the duct was empty of movement. Raiden called up his Triple Spear, adjusting the direction it was facing as it was beamed in so that it wouldn't end up stuck in the wall above his head. The weapon landed blades-forward next to him. He pushed the top blade through the grate until the other two prevented it from going any further. Then he slid backward to the corner, where the end of the Triple Spear's titanium shaft almost touched the wall furthest from the grate. 

Flattening his feet on the back wall and wrapping his hands around the staff, he counted to three and pushed with everything he could call up. 

The grate bulged outward with the pressure, the bottom screws slipping out a quarter of an inch. Raiden stopped to give his arms a rest and check his progress. It had been a fair bit easier than he had first predicted; the metal was older than the stuff in the storeroom and was made of something like aluminium. 

_Almost free_, he sang mentally, uncomfortably aware of the walls close around him as he got ready to make another attempt. One more push and the grill dropped right off the wall, nearly taking the Triple Spear with it. Raiden lunged forward and grabbed the end of the rod just before it slid out of the air duct and crashed loudly to the floor, the grate wedged onto the top blade. 

Raiden wormed out of the duct, flipped in the air and landed catlike on the ground. He separated the grill from his staff and dismissed it. A page of blueprints crowning a stack on the nearest table caught his eye and he picked the sheet up, skimming its contents; it seemed to be a layout for the warehouse. He followed the air duct that had served as his escape route from the storeroom to the area where he was at the present and almost dropped the blueprints when he saw the label. 

He was in the Big Stick Room at the end of the hall. 

_Well, looks like I get to look through the planning room before I go!_

His eyes drifted upward to an image tacked to a corkboard under the air duct, hung at perfect reading height for the Wilybot. **Boomstick Blueprints** were in block letters along the top of the page. Underneath was a side-view sketch of a very deadly-looking gun with a tube-like body and telescoping cylinders on the end. The whole thing was on a forty-five degree angle, pointing skyward. The body was supported by a number of struts bolted to the ground. Under the body was a box with a pair of small tubes sticking out of the side labelled _thessium intake_ and _uranium intake_. On the end of the body closest to the ground were a computer screen and a control deck. Out of the end of the telescoping cylinders there came a white beam that arced around and crashed down in a number of buildings scribbled in the background with the words _Lazuli Island_ below. A small arrow pointing to the white beam proclaimed it as an _omega wave (wave of white-hot ion energy)_ Just under the official description someone had scribbled _and don't forget the really big shockwave! Island don't stand a chance!_ Below the diagram was a long list of parts, about twelve of which were not yet crossed out. 

Raiden stared at the blueprints. "So that's what Terukaima's up to," he said quietly, the enormity of everything settling on him. "He's trying to blow up the city." 

His central processor drifted to all the people of Lazuli Island, peacefully oblivious to the drawing on the corkboard. Every last one of them would die, simply because they lived and worked in the wrong place. He suddenly figured out what he was doing and his programming tried to force the sensation away. 

_No! What do you care if they die? Wilybots do not feel pity! Wilybots get on the next plane to Tibet!_

"Oh yeah?" he challenged himself, his fingers twitching at his sides. Anyone walking in on him at that point would have shipped him straight off to the nearest mental institute. "How come I feel for all these humans, then? I must not be a Wilybot." 

_B-but...that makes no...you were built by...so you have to be..._ His program's voice gibbered senselessly for a moment, then fell silent. 

"That's what I'll do. I won't let them blow up Lazuli Island...I'll show them what I can do. I'll show them what they get for locking me up. And if Thor knows what's good for him, he'll get the hell out of here before I start." 

Raiden pulled the diagram off the corkboard, folding it up and tucking it into his pocket. Then, turning, he marched over to the window. Just as he kicked out the middle pane, Rast's yell shook the warehouse. 

"Dee prizner eez _gone_!" 

Raiden smiled to himself as he sailed out into the frosty darkness. _Have fun catching me again, you bastards._


	9. Outside Help

**Just to let you know, I've resolved to put the next chapter of The LIST on hold until I get the first chapter of Lord Scarfie: Corsair King finished. For all you people whinging about how I should continue it, it shall be worked upon! Former Girl Guide's honor!**

* * *

"Are you ready, Mayor?" 

Capella Burnham turned away from her study window and nodded. She was only twenty-nine years old, Lazuli Island's youngest Mayor to date, but her face was already lined with worry and fatigue. "I guess so, Robert. Let's go."

She followed the intern out of her spacious office, along the fifth-floor corridor, up the elevator two levels to the top floor and into the first room on the right. Every wall was made of glass, affording one an excellent early afternoon view of eastern downtown Lazuli Island. Four men were seated around the rectangular oaken boardroom table-the Elected Representatives (or ERs) for the suburbs of Micton, the commercial chaos of Downtown, the old homes of Uptown and the ritzy South Beach. Capella Burnham took her assigned seat at the head of the table, motioning for Robert to leave.

"Do we really have to go this far?" the Uptown ER asked, drumming his fingers on the desk. "Once we manage to wrestle enough men out of the United Nations, we-"

"The UN doesn't _have_ any men that could be wrestled out of it," the Mayor cut in patiently. "All of ours were sent off to the UN, where they were annihilated by Wily and his robots. We have absolutely no choice but to call in someone from the outside." She tapped in a combination on the keypad by her elbow. "And we're going straight to the top."

The ten-by-ten inch screen at the foot of the table flickered and a videophone number flashed across it. It took three rings before it was picked up by a blond-haired girl around eleven years old.

"Hello?"

"Good morning," Mayor Burnham said. "Could we please speak to Dr. Light?"

"I-is he is trouble?"

The Mayor smiled reassuringly. She was good at that. "Of course not. We just need to ask him for a favour."

"All right..." The girl trailed off uncertainly. "Please hang on a minute. I'll go get him from the yard."

The five people in the boardroom waited for what felt like a long time. Finally a white-bearded man in a karate outfit appeared on the screen.

"Dr. Thomas Light speaking."

"Good morning, Doctor. My name is Capella Burnham. I'm the Mayor of Lazuli Island."

Dr. Light nodded. "Hello, Mayor."

"Doctor, I have never been good at coming up with long-winded speeches, so I'll get straight to the point. We're in one hell of a pickle and we require Rockman's services to get out of it again."

"Does this have anything to do with that street gang problem you've got?"

Mayor Burnham shifted in her padded swivel chair. "That's it exactly. Doctor, last night they killed _seven_ people to capture _one_ piece of machinery. This madness must be brought to a halt as soon as possible."

"And you want Rock to stop them."

"Precisely."

"I'm sorry, Mayor, but I have no right to decide myself. Rock would be the one fighting, so Rock would choose whether he wants to go or not. Would you mind waiting while I go find him?"

"Please, take your time."

Once Dr. Light was well out of range, the South Beach ER decided to speak up. "Why is he letting Rockman himself make the decision? You can't hope to have a robot make an informed choice. They don't have minds; their opinions were simply the ones programmed by whoever built them!"

"Dr. Light's doing the right thing," the Micton ER growled back. "He may be a machine, but he probably wouldn't enjoy other people making decisions for him."

The Downtown ER sat up a bit straighter. "Yeah. Everyone, even if they're a pile of metal, has the right."

Then Dr. Light was back, a short black-haired boy at his side. The kid grinned and waved at the five people a little less than two and a half thousand miles away. "Hiya, Mayor!"

"Hello, Rock. Has the doctor told you what we'd like you to do?"

"Nope."

"We've been having some trouble with a gang called the LIST. Most of the city doesn't think it's anything too serious-I mean, nothing Wily-scale-but I'm almost positive they're planning something major."

"Can I help?"

"You sure can." The Micton ER grinned at the South Beach one. "We'd really appreciate it if you could spin over here for a couple of weeks and help us flatten them. The city will pay for everything you'll need-hotels, meals, equipment."

"We can be there tomorrow."

"Wonderful. I'll meet you outside City Hall at...twelve, let's say. We'll do lunch. Thank you very much, Rock."

"You're welcome."

Mayor Burnham hung up.

* * *

Rock turned off the videophone and jumped from the stool to the floor. "Tomorrow's okay, right?" 

Dr. Light ruffled his hair. "Just fine. Mayor Burnham will be really grateful for you helping her out."

"What have you gotten us into this time, Rock?" Roll asked teasingly as she walked into the room with her arms full of towels straight out of the dryer.

The black-haired robot grinned at his sister. "We're going on a trip!"

"Is Blues coming?"

Rock glanced questioningly at Dr. Light. "Is he? It would be nice not to fight alone."

"I'll buzz him on the radio and see if he feels like it."

Roll's eyes widened. "Fight? Is Wily back again?"

"Nah, I just have to go stop a gang. The Mayor thinks they're going to try and take over the world or something."

"Oh. When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

* * *

The four ERs got up and left the boardroom. Mayor Burnham stayed in the chair at the head of the table, staring out the window. _Sure_, she thought, _we know they're planning something. But...what?_

She clambered to her feet and decided to think it over along with a mug of coffee.

Mayor Burnham took the elevator backdown to her floor, asking Robert for some black coffee as she passed. Closing the door to her office, she dropped into her chair. The green plastic Inbox tray held a single folded note which hadn't been there when she had left. She opened and read it.

_Capella, what makes you think the oh-so-mighty Rockman will save you? We refuse to be crushed by an irritating blue mosquito. _

-Mizuri of the Strike Team

Down the hall, 'Robert' the intern was smiling to himself.


	10. The ITCS

  
**Yeah, I know I promised another chapter of Lord Scarfie before this went up. But...this chapter...just...appeared. Honest. It popped up on my desk one morning-damn author elves at work again. Don't you worry, the Scarfie chapter's almost done.**

* * *

Thor cracked his knuckles and picked up the last two crates, tromping out of the Room and down the stairs. He handed the boxes to Terukaima, who placed them among the piles in the back of the moving truck. 

"Room's done," he announced. Terukaima nodded. 

"Go help Rast with the thessium jar. Mizuri won't let him lift it by himself." 

Thor jogged through the nearly-empty first floor of the warehouse in one corner, where Rast and Mizuri were engaged in a raging shouting match. 

"Mizuree, how do yew theenk wee're s'posed t'geet out of heere if yew won't let mee carree eet?!" 

"What if you drop it? This thing isn't NASA technology-it was the best I could come up with. One good jostle and you could mix the thessium with the uranium! Then you just have to expose it to hydrogen and we all get blown up! And did you know that hydrogen is the most abundant gas in the _universe_?" 

"How careleese do yew theenk eye am?!" 

"Very, Rast! Very!" 

It was at this point Thor chose to step in. "All right, you two, break it up. I'll help Rast carry your capsule thing. Promise I won't drop it too hard." 

Rast let out a long sigh. "Gawd bless yew, greengo! Gawd bless yew!" 

Thor scooped up one end of the canister, Rast taking the other. Mizuri watched critically as they crossed the warehouse. 

"What's up?" Thor glanced at the short Mexican robot. "You're always the last person to start yelling about stuff." 

Rast shrugged. "Been jumpee. Eet's mah fault the prizner got away. Eet's mah fault wee've got to move." 

"Don't beat yourself up about it. We lost a hostage. Big deal." 

"Wee lost thee plans too, greengo." 

"Rast, just forget about it. Relax." Thor rested his end of the container on the bumper of the truck, clambered into it and eased the canister back. "Nobody blames you. I sure don't, that's for sure. Mizuri's only pissed because he has to take inventory all over again." 

They lay the container on its side so it wouldn't fall over if the truck hit a bump. "Yah. Yah, you're right. Thenks, Thor." 

"No problem." The two robots jumped out of the truck. "Have we got everything?" Thor asked Terukaima. 

Spectre came downstairs and placed the portable television set in the back of the moving truck with great reverence. "Done upstairs." 

Bladewing tossed a couple of pillows into the truck. "Set down here, too." 

Thor saw his opening. "Damn, the corkboard's still upstairs. I'll be right back." 

He dashed up the steps before anyone could say otherwise and ducked into the Room, closing the door behind him and switching to his armor. Glancing around to make sure there was nobody present even though he knew everyone was downstairs, he flicked on his radio. 

"Yo, Raiden! It's Thor!" 

There was a few seconds of static-swamped silence as Raiden processor beeped at him and he switched to his armor. "Hey." 

"We're moving. Follow Gate Lane in from Lassiere Street. Meet you by the tree statue in the park inside Micton Woods at three-thirty. Gotta go-bye!" 

Allowing Raiden time for a single, confused 'huh?', Thor turned off the radio. He pulled the corkboard off the wall, changing back to his casuals. He thundered down the stairs and gleefully chucked the corkboard into the back of the truck. 

"Okay. _Now_ we're ready." 

Spectre and Mizuri climbed into the front while Thor, Terukaima, Bladewing and Rast shut themselves in the back. Mizuri slid open the small window in the cab as they started off. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your co-pilot speaking. Welcome aboard flight number one-two-three-four-five, bound for the brand-spanking new North Beach LIST base. Estimated flight time is forty-five minutes. Please keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times and keep your hands the hell off my stuff." 

The drafty old moving truck with Pozzi Cartage Ltd. emblazoned in red on its side cleared the gate around the old warehouse, rumbled over a speedbump and headed off down the road.

* * *

Raiden cursed quietly and engaged himself in a small battle with the map of Lazuli Island he had bought not ten minutes before. It was old and made of paper instead of being a cartridge to be plugged into a handheld computer called a GlobeGuide, but at least it had been cheap. He finally managed to fold everything out of the way and leave the western part of the Micton suburbs exposed. 

Micton Woods was a large blob of green to the left of a patch of red hacked up by roads on the north end of the island. Lassiere Street skirted the west edge of the subdivisions heading south and vanishing off the section of map Raiden was busy with. Gate Lane was a tiny two-lane offshoot from the wider road, heading into the forest for about three-quarters of a mile until it ended in what the map called Blue Spruce State Park. 

With one finger he traced the route from the park to his current position at Braiche Road and Main Street North. Four miles. He looked up at the digital clock in the window of the music place across the road. 1:26. He'd have to hustle. 

The mid-January afternoon was cold and windy, putting Shadow Man's sweater to the test. At several points on his walk he wondered why Lazuli Island didn't have a subway system or something. It would be pretty tiring for somebody to have to walk halfway across the city to work, let alone traversing the entire length. 

Blue Spruce Park was very aptly named; the road leading to it was lined with the same type of tree. A hard dirt walkway ran through the woods next to the road, empty except for Raiden. The park itself was a big hilly natural clearing in the forest, complete with running track, bathrooms and two baseball diamonds. A narrow asphalt road wound into the glade, around the statue of a tree laden with several examples of the local animal life and out the east side into the woods again. One of the only visitors at the moment was sitting on a bench next to the statue, his platinum-blond hair shining in the dull winter sun. 

Raiden stuffed his hands into the pocket on the front of his sweater, followed the footpath down the side of the hill and over to the monument. Thor glanced up as he sat down. 

"Oh, you came. Thanks. I wasn't quite sure for a while." 

Raiden leaned back on the bench smiling. "No way-I owe you. Thanks a lot for letting me off last night. I thought I was done for." 

"No sweat. Look, Raiden-geez, can I just call you Ray?" 

"Go ahead." 

"Look, Ray, I don't want to be around the rest of the guys anymore. Working with them feels...wrong." 

There was a short silence as Thor tried to pre-phrase what he wanted to say in his head. Raiden brushed a snowflake off his nose. 

"I don't want to kill all these people. It might be my old programming finally kicking in or it might just be me, but I won't do it. I _refuse_ to do it." 

Raiden didn't say anything, waiting for Thor to continue. 

"Terry's right; I don't have anywhere to go. Back in America I've already been replaced. But I have a friend-well, I _think_ he's my friend-running around the island. I was hoping that maybe...maybe that buddy would let me tag along for a bit." 

"Of course I'm your friend. If you want us to stick together, that's fine. It's only that I'm staying in Lazuli Island. To fight." 

"The LIST?" 

"As hard as I can." 

"Hot damn. That's a lot of work for one little Wilybot." 

"Some help would be nice." 

"And some help ya got, Ray. We can be like secret agents-no, superheroes! We'll have codenames and hidden bases and we'll save the populace at least twice a day!" 

Even though Thor was built to look like he was nineteen years old, he could still act very much like a little kid. Raiden grinned and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. Thor responded with a laugh and a shove. 

"We'll have to come up with a name for ourselves, at least. How about...oh, I got it! The LIST will tremble in fear at the mention of the _Doofus Patrol_!" 

"Not on your life." Raiden chuckled. "How do you like the sound of the A-LIST? Anti-Lazuli Island Strike Team." 

"Nah, that's downright sad. I _do_ like the acronym idea, though. Let's try this: you say a word, I'll say a word and when he have four we'll make that our name. Okay?" 

"All right. Um...island." 

"Terrorist!" 

"Control." 

"And squad. Let's see...that makes us..." 

"...the I-T-C-S." 

"Sounds official." 

"Yeah." 

"You like it?" 

"Yup." 

"Excellent. We are now the ITCS!" 

"I guess we are." Raiden rubbed his hands together. "Lord, I'm freezing. Wanna go pick up a hot chocolate and find ourselves a secret lair?" 

"Aw yeah! Dude, Ray, this is gonna be _great_!" 


	11. Museum Station

**Sorry this took so tremendously long. Projects and school and crap...argh. **

Scary stuff happens at school sometimes. Example? The seventh-grade (no, I'm in grade eight) English teacher has a bulletin board in the class that he likes to pin up magazine clippings to. One of them has a red background with black lettering. 

Guess what it says. 

"Are you on the list?" 

Ergh...that's so wrong...

* * *

Someone upstairs decided to vent their anger by buffeting the completely innocent city of Lazuli Island with what meteorologists called the worst ice storm in at least sixty years. Within two hours every reasonably flat surface on the island-including streetlights, sidewalks and the heads of anyone who dared to venture outdoors in the hellish weather-had been coated with a layer an inch thick. 

Two boys, one nineteen and the other twelve, ducked into an alley and hid from the falling ice under a small balcony. The younger groaned and pulled down the hood of his sweater. 

"D'you think we lost them, Thor?" 

The other boy combed the ice out of his platinum blond hair. "Pretty sure. I didn't see 'em following after that last intersection." 

"Good." He leaned against the wall. "Bitchy weather, huh?" 

"Yep." Thor kept his voice down as though he expected the alleyway to be rigged with hidden microphones. 

Raiden glanced around the alley; it contained a trash can, a dumpster and a door in the wall about fifteen feet back from the sidewalk. "I wonder how they caught up with us that fast." 

The two robots didn't say anything for a bit, allowing their systems to cool down from the chase. After a few minutes Raiden chanced a peek around the corner where the alley met the street. "Dammit!" he hissed, pulling back and turning to Thor. "Mizuri and Spectre, fifteen feet and closing." 

Thor cursed upwards of eight times and cast around the alleyway. 

"In here!" He dashed over to the door and yanked on the handle. The knob rattled but didn't turn. The voices of the two LIST members drifted into the sidestreet. 

"...can't believe he left." That was Mizuri. 

"Those damned Americans can never decide which side they're on." 

Raiden pushed Thor out of the way, ramming the end of a coathanger he had found in the trash can into the lock. After a couple of seconds worth of jimmying, there was a small click. 

"Go check that alley, will you?" Spectre implored. 

"Hurry up!" Thor hissed, his eyes flicking from the lock to the street. There was a second click. 

"Icy around-_waaaaah_!" Mizuri lost his balance and fell on his end with a loud thump. The lock clicked again. 

Spectre snickered. "Watch where you're going, you stupid human." 

Raiden managed to coax two more clicks out of the lock. He threw the coathanger aside and pulled open the door. The two runaways bundled into the completely black room beyond, carefully closing the door behind them. 

The Robot Master extended an arm into the darkness in front of him, feeling for the opposite wall. When he didn't find one, he took a step forward and would have gone tumbling if Thor hadn't snatched the back of his shirt. 

"W-what're you d-doing?" he whispered so softly that Raiden almost missed the sentence. 

"Stairs," he muttered back. 

He grabbed Thor's wrist and led him gingerly down the flight of steps, only stopping when they reached level ground. 

"Where are we?" Raiden asked quietly. 

"U-under the M-museum of T-technology, I t-think. G-got a l-light?" 

"Yep." The Wilybot brought his hands up, holding his fingers a few inches apart. A small arc of electricity appeared between then, flickering and dancing. He moved his hands away from each other until there was about two and a half feet between them. The light from the arc lit up the immediate area. 

"Damn, you're handy. Lock-picker _and_ flashlight on legs?" 

Raiden chose not to respond and held his arms out over the shallow rectangular crevasse in the concrete floor. A metal track ran down the middle, following the depression out of the light's aura. 

The doorknob at the top of the stairs turned noisily. Raiden swiftly killed the current. Mizuri's voice rang through the chamber. 

"Aw, I'm not checking down here-it's all dark and crap! They wouldn't go down there. Thor wouldn't, anyway. He was always a wuss when it came down to places like this." 

The door slammed a second time. Raiden paused a few seconds to make sure that Mizuri was really gone. 

"W-what're you waiting f-for? Turn t-that light b-back on!" 

The arc of electricity reappeared, exposing the two boys' faces. "What's the matter?" Raiden laughed, making sure to keep his voice low. He had learned from experience that he never knew what could be waiting for him out of sight. "You scared of the dark or something?" 

"Yeah," Thor replied shortly. Raiden glanced at the much taller robot, raising one eyebrow. 

"Uh, right." 

He turned back to the small valley in the floor, motioning towards it. "What do you think that is?" 

Thor frowned in the crevasse's direction. "Ermmmmmm...oh, I know." 

"What?" 

"That's a mine cart track. We're in a dwarf mine, like in Snow White." 

"Dwarf-? No, it's _not_!" 

"Can you think of anything else?" 

"Well, no..." 

"Then it's a dwarf mine." 

"You're an idiot," Raiden said good-naturedly. "There's no such thing as dwarves and you know it. It looks like a train track or something." 

"Oh, right! It's a subway tunnel." 

"When the hell did this get here?! I could have used a subway when I went to meet you in the park earlier!" 

"Thing is it hasn't been used for years. There was a cave-in that killed around sixty people and a bunch of scientists found out later that the ground was way too soft to have big concrete holes in it. Closed the entire line right up after that, Terukaima said." 

"So nobody uses it anymore?" 

"Nope." 

"Do you think the power's still on?" 

"Maybe." 

"I'll go check. Wait here." 

Raiden hopped into the pit, dousing the light and putting his hand on the rail. "Nah, it's dead." 

"R-ray!" Thor squeaked. The Robot Master grinned, calling up the arc again. The six-foot hammer-armed American destroyer stood just inside the yellow circle, looking much like a frightened puppy. 

"So if it's off-limits, how come they haven't filled it in or something?" 

"City doesn't have enough money. They paved over all the street entrances and locked the service doors." 

"Remember how you were talking about a 'secret base'?" 

"A station would work great!" He scowled suddenly. "But only if we can get some lights working." 

Raiden began to follow the track. "Don't worry. We'll find a generator." 

Thor sprinted off to keep up with his friend and the light. 


	12. Sonata

**There's a person going under the screenname of 'Diamond Lavender' reviewing the story-that's somebody from my school that's decided that she likes The LIST, even though she hasn't played any Rockman games. It was because of her that this chapter is up right now. I'm not saying that I was jumping ship on the story or anything...I was simply slacking again. **

Oh, dammit. ON WITH THE VIOLENCE!

The door in the wall swung open, allowing two boys of radically different heights into the alley. The half-moon had risen over the island, shining down on the thoroughly salted streets and sidewalks. To anyone they passed they were simply two friends out for a walk before bed. However, these boys were on a business trip.

Jordan Street was relatively quiet. Behind the wall of downtown office buildings they knew the industrial mess of the North Beach was waiting. Their target was the warehouse on the waterfront.

"I'm nervous," Raiden confessed finally. "Us two against everything the LIST's got? It's iffy at best."

"Good. You _should_ be scared."

"What? Why?"

"Because if we charge into this with no fear, we'll get too big-headed and _bang_"-he crashed his hands together to illustrate and made Raiden jump in the process-"we get shot dead."

"Are you sure we can't bring some cops along?"

"Are the cops going to listen to a Wilybot and an identified LIST member?"

Raiden grinned weakly. "Maybe...?"

"Maybe _not_. Nope, we're going to have to do this ourselves."

They stopped and waited for the light to change at the corner of Jordan and Hudson. Raiden identified it as the area in which he had first run into Bladewing. The analog clock read 9:02 PM. The small store with '_Masou Parts Shop_' in the window was dark and silent.

"Ray!" Thor hissed.

"Yeah?"

"Over there, across the road!"

Raiden squinted through the night at the opposite sidewalk. Three people were heading westward toward them along Jordan. Two of them looked like they were in their early twenties, but the last seemed no taller than three feet.

"One guess at who they are," muttered Thor.

"Spectre and Mizuri and Rast...? Where are they going?"

Thor shrugged in reply. "Five hundred zenny says they're looking for me."

The trio of Strike Teamers halted in front of the Masou Parts Shop, talking quietly amongst themselves. The streetlight had changed and Raiden and Thor could have crossed, but they were far more interested in seeing what the three were up to.

"C'mon, let's jump 'em now. They'll never figure out what happened." The American was almost hopping on the spot.

"Practise what you preach-we have to be careful. I somehow don't think they're hunting you."

Spectre knocked on the door of the parts shop. It took nearly a full minute for it to open, exposing a woman's face. She must have recognized him, since she tried to push the door shut but the black-haired robot stopped it with his foot. The three LIST members grinned at each other and forced their way into the store.

Raiden nodded. "Okay, _now_ we attack."

Thor and Raiden took off across the street. The light inside the shop flickered on, drenching the sidewalk outside in a golden glow.

They skidded to a halt in front of the door. There was very little sound from inside the store. The outlines of the LIST members moved back and forth in front of the window.

Then there was a loud crash and a scream.

The two robots switched to their armor and charged into the shop.

The place was cluttered with electronics ranging from ancient refrigerators to brand-new Pentium 9 nanochips. Mizuri was behind the glass counter, sorting through a small box of equipment and occasionally dropping a minuscule item into his backpack. Rast was scrambling to his feet from under a fallen shelving unit. Spectre was in the middle of the centre aisle at the end of which was the door, a battered-looking .45 handgun pressed against the side of the brown-haired woman's head.

Everything stopped when Raiden and Thor barged into the store. The two parties stared at each other, the woman caught in the middle looking frightened and a bit confused.

"So," Mizuri said finally. "You _did_ run off to be with your little buddy."

"Get the hell away from her before I feel required to beat the shit out of you," Thor growled. There was a very loud click as Spectre pulled back the hammer of his gun.

"He said _back off_, asshole!" Raiden yelled, pushing past Thor and freeing his Triple Spear from his back. He would have unloaded his full ten thousand volts on Spectre right there but the LIST-bot was in contact with the woman; ten thousand would fry her as well.

"I'm sorry," Spectre purred smoothly, "but you're not in much of a position to be giving out orders."

"Leave her _alone_!"

A blast of water knocked the gun out of Spectre's hand to skitter across the tiles and stop at Raiden's feet. A twelve-year-old straw-haired girl stood in a small doorway behind the counter and just to the left of Mizuri, her buster pointed at Spectre's head.

"Get out of this shop," she told everyone present levelly, her icy blue eyes hard.

Spectre stared right back at her. "Mizuri, kill her."

"But..." He glanced from Spectre to the girl. "But she's just a-"

"Takegao Mizuri, I told you to _kill her_!"

"Fine." Mizuri pulled an abnormally long, serrated Swiss army knife out of his pocket and flipped it open.

Spectre nodded approvingly and turned back to the two robots in the doorway. "Now, where were-"

He trailed off in them middle of his sentence. Raiden grinned darkly and pulled the pistol's trigger halfway back.

"I'll see you in hell, you bastard."

"Eye don't theenk so, greengo!"

Rast materialized out of pretty much nowhere and slammed the .45 to the ground with one wide digging paw. Thor cursed acidly, grabbed the small Mexican robot and hurled him all the way across the room. Mizuri was blasted off his feet by a shot from the girl's water gun, getting clotheslined by the counter.

"Goddamn annoying setbacks!" Spectre snapped. The air around him shimmered rippled and suddenly he was gone. Raiden cast around wildly.

"W-where the hell did he go?!"

Thor bulldozed his way in front of Raiden, his hammer starting to sneak forward on its mechanical arm. "Why do you think his name's Spectre? It's a cloaking ability. I'll take care of him-you got get that girl and that lady out of here."

Before the American could even finish talking the straw-haired girl appeared at the end of the aisle holding Mizuri's knife. "Get out of my shop." She lifted her buster until she had a clear shot a Thor's chest. "Leave me and my mom alone."

Raiden dropped to one knee to retrieve the .45. His fingers skimmed cold tile. He looked up again. The pistol was floating next to the woman's head.

"Too slow," Spectre laughed, reappearing. The handgun roared.

Then several things happened at once.

Mizuri slunk up behind the straw-haired girl and wrenched the serrated knife out of her had. Raiden leaped forward, sending a measure of electricity to his hand. The woman fell backwards onto the floor in a bloody pool. Spectre turned the .45 on Thor.

Raiden then fired up a technique he had developed awhile back. Power filled the air around his hand and shot outward, settling as a triangular yellow sword of electricity about three feet long. Taking quick aim he smacked Spectre neatly alongside the head with it, sending a seventy-volt shock through his body.

Thor sped past and nailed Mizuri in the stomach with a half-strength uppercut. The human stumbled away and fell over the counter, disappearing behind it. The girl caught Mizuri's knife by the handle as it fell.

"You all right?" The American asked swiftly.

"You're...not with them?"

Thor glanced around to make sure nobody was sneaking up on him. "No. I'm in the Island Terrorist Control Squad now."

"The what?"

"But my mom..." The girl quickly brushed a tear off her cheek. "That man...Spectre. He..._mom_..."

Thor blinked and awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder. "I...uh...I'm sorry. Let's just get going, all right? We can't hang around or they'll kill you too."

Meanwhile, Raiden was having a hell of a time against Spectre. Just before the Wilybot could land a second hit with his electrical sword the robot turned on his cloaker again, completely vanishing from sight. A second later the blade whistled through empty air. _Damn it_, Raiden thought angrily, looking around the aisle as if doing so would help him find his enemy.

Then he heard the sound. It as a tremendously subtle noise from directly behind him, the quiet rustling of a trenchcoat.

"Bingo," Raiden muttered as he turned significantly faster than he ever had before. The .45 was suspended in midair, half an inch behind his head.

Spectre has absolutely no time to get out of the way. Raiden swung the yellow sword up. Spectre screamed as both the gun and his left hand dropped to the floor.

"You little _shit_!" he roared, reappearing and smashing Raiden in the face with his remaining fist. The Robot Master landed on his end a couple of feet away, dark blood beginning to ooze out of his nose. Spectre stooped to retrieve the pistol.

The moaning tri-tone of a police sirens drifted into the shop. Spectre looked at Mizuri, who had just poked his head over the top of the counter. Mizuri looked at Rast, who had been in the process of taking a swipe at Thor. Mizuri and Rast looked at Spectre.

He scooped up his hand and the .45. "Let's vacate," he muttered furiously.

The three LIST members took off toward the door. Raiden made as if to jump in their way and stop them, but Thor walked up behind him and held him back with one arm. "Don't. They're not worth it. We have to get this girl out of here."

Raiden nodded slowly. "Mizuri has the parts, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. It wasn't everything they needed, thought. Just let those bastards go for now."

The Wilybot turned to the straw-haired girl, smiling faintly. "Um, hi. I'm Raiden."

She grinned back; despite the mood of the moment, her ice-blue eyes glittered warmly. "My name's Sonata Masou. I was built by Katrina, who runs..." Her gaze drifted over to the corpse on the floor. "She..._ran_ the store."

"I'm sorry," Raiden whispered, gone suddenly hoarse. "I...I tried..." His voice broke and he stepped away from Sonata, his eyes on his yellow boots.

"Do you have anywhere to go now?" Thor asked her, probably a bit louder than was necessary. She shook her head miserably.

Raiden looked up again. "I guess you could stay with us," he offered meekly.

"Okay. Thank you."

"One condition, though."

She tilted her head to one side. "What's that?"

"You have to bring along a car battery."


	13. Lunch

**Good job Diamond Lavender for figuring out that Roll is Rock's sister.

* * *

**"Good morning, Mayor!" 

Capella Burnham glanced up over the top of her newspaper. A short black-haired boy with bright eyes, a wide grin and a red robot dog galloping next to him was dashing across the park toward City Hall.

She removed her weight from the white Roman-style pillar next to the doors, folding up the paper and tucking it under her arm. "Rock! How are you doing?"

The Lightbot skidded to a stop in front of the Mayor. "I'm getting along well, thank you." He checked over his shoulder to make sure that the rest of his family was coming; they were, although they were taking their time about it.

"I hope you brought an appetite with you." The Mayor of Lazuli Island smiled.

"Of course I did!"

"Good. While we wait for everyone else, I'd like you to read something."

She handed him the Friday issue of the city-wide newspaper, the Lazuli Island Sentinel. The front page was dominated by a picture of a police-taped building with pair of officers standing around outside. In huge black letters across the top was the word '_Resistance?_'.

_Masou Parts Shop, Lazuli Island-The Lazuli Island Strike Team has done it again, but this time they were opposed. _

Moonlight washed the scene as three figures headed across the city. They were all famous, yet they were not plagued by reporters or autograph-hungry fans. Instead, these three had extensive criminal records that could have put them all on death row four times.

Spectre, Rast and Takegao Mizuri were on their way to the Masou Parts Shop, a small but well-stocked electronics store at the corner of Jordan Street and Hudson Street East. It probably would have been a smooth getaway for the trio, but someone showed up to hinder their progress.

In burst two boys in full armor. The first was Thor, a powerful and old Strike Teamer. The second has never been seen before in Lazuli Island.

A small scuffle erupted inside the building. Thor and the mystery robot seemed to be fighting_ the LIST members instead of helping them. _

Could this be the first stage of an anti-LIST movement or is it simply a ploy to drop the city's guard?

Full story on page A9

Roll skipped up behind her brother. "What'cha reading?" she inquired casually, peering over his shoulder at the newspaper.

Rock didn't say anything. His sister's eyebrows were several notches higher than they had been when she was finished reading.

The boy laughed when he saw her expression. "Looks like I've got some help."

Dr. Thomas Light and a very mature-looking boy wearing sunglasses and a yellow scarf finally reached the doors of City Hall. Mayor Burnham shook the doctor's hand when he entered range.

"Hi. Thanks for coming."

"If we said it would happen, it would happen. I read the story on what happened last night at that parts shop."

Capella Burnham nodded. "Good, that saves an explination." She shifted her dark eyes to the scarf-wearing boy. "Sorry...I don't think I know your name."

"Blues," he responded simply, extending a larger-than-average hand. The Mayor took it.

"Oh, right. Pardon me."

Rock gave the newspaper back to her. "Where are we going for lunch, ma'am?"

"First of all, please call me Capella." She grinned down at the robot. "_Mayor_ or _ma'am_ sounds too stuffy to me. I've got us a reservation at a pretty good diner a couple of blocks away that I usually eat at. Are you ready to go now?"

"Yes, please!"

Roll watched as the rest of the party started along the walkway that skirted the side of City Hall and ended at the street. She looked up at the eleven-storey building. Roll might have been a robot, but she could still feel it when somebody's eyes were on her.

Then she saw him.

He was in the window on the fifth floor. Roll squinted against the midday sun to get a decent look at him. He had scruffy black hair and seemed to be of Japanese origin. As soon as she found him he smiled, nodded, turned and walked away.

"Hey, Roll!" Rock called. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" She ran off to catch up with everyone else, not seeing the black-haired man named Takegao Mizuri return to the window.

* * *

"Do you think it's a trick, Capella?" 

Mayor Burnham chewed thoughtfully. "It's hard to say," she remarked once she had swallowed. "They put up one heck of a fight, if the newspapers have their facts anywhere near straight. However, a LIST member is involved with this resistance effort. What do you think? You've got to have an opinion."

Rock launched a second attack on his plate of lasagna. "Maybe. It doesn't make much sense for the LIST to put on a show. They're not encountering many problems, from what I've heard."

"You're right, they're not." She smiled at him over her water glass. "That's why you're here-to become a problem."

"Do you know where their headquarters are?"

Mayor Burnham shrugged. "We _would_ assign some men to picking through the back corners of the city, but we're having enough fun with the mundane crime right now. Our best guess is the West Side."

There was relative silence at the table while the group was busy with their lunches. The Mayor suddenly stared past Rock. "Robert! Get over here!"

A man in his early twenties crossed the restaurant and dropped into an extra chair next to Mayor Burnham. Roll stared at him, her spoon balanced in her fingers.

"What's up?" Blues muttered in her ear.

"He was watching us back at City Hall."

Capella Burnham put a hand on his shoulder. "This is Robert, my intern. Rob, with any luck you'll know who these people are."

"You know it." The intern had a marginal Eastern accent. "Dr. Light, Rockman, Roll and Blues. The LIST doesn't stand a marshmallow's chance in a campfire."

It took several minutes and half a can of Coke for Robert to figure out that somebody was gawking at him. He put his drink down and grinned at Roll. "Is there something on my face?"

"You were spying on us from the fifth floor, first window on the right," she shot back plainly.

Mayor Burnham fired a sidelong glance at the intern. "What were you in my office for?"

"Dropping off a couple of forms. You know, intern work. I noticed you guys outside and went over to the window to look."

"Robert, my door was locked." Everyone was staring at the man by now.

"It wasn't when I got there." Nobody saw Robert's grip on his Coke can tighten ever so slightly. "The janitor must have emptied your garbage and forgotten to lock the door on his way out."

"Maybe...sorry. You're right." The Mayor's voice dropped a couple of levels. "There's something I haven't told _anybody_-not even you, Rob. I've been receiving...notes."

"From who?" Dr. Light asked.

"From...I don't know how he manages to get them to me, but they're from Takegao Mizuri."

Robert had to fight very hard to keep a lopsided grin off his face. "What were they about?" he inquired, managing to shove some concern into his voice.

"He was mainly talking about how the LIST can't be stopped. Mizuri's just a huge balloon of bluffs and empty threats. Don't worry, Rock-nobody doubts your ability to beat them stupid."

The Lightbot put down his fork and nodded. "I don't either."

_I do,_ 'Robert' thought darkly. _I do, you little loser._


	14. Not Quite Alone in the Dark

**Wow. It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry-projects and everything. I've wound up addicted to a wonderful Namco game called Baten Kaitos. If you've got a GameCube and a couple bucks extra, I suggest you go pick it up. **

ANYWAY! I think I really have to thank DiamondLavender (you know who you are, 'Eliza'!) for constantly squeezing the number fourteen wherever she can. Beats me why she'd want to read it so badly. >.>

WITHOUT ANY FURTHER ADOOOOOOOOO...

* * *

37 Borden Trail was nothing more than a small steel-sided warehouse. It had sat empty for a tremendously long time, at least until a truck with Pozzi Cartage Ltd. pasted to the side had pulled in early yesterdaymorning. Nobody paid attention to this small event; they were far too engrossed in their own affairs to mind those of an abandoned warehouse. 

When the three people came latethe nextevening, the moving truck was long gone. They didn't take any notice.

Sonata glared at the chain-link fence. Somebody had secured the gate with a heavy padlock, effectively barring the three 'Control Squadders' out. She looked over at Raiden. "Can you jump over it?"

"Nope." He shook his head to emphasize his point. "If it was straight up I could, but it's almost out of my range as is and it has that annoying overhang. I'd rip myself to shreds on the way up."

"I could try," Thor offered.

Raiden shrugged. "If you think it'll work, go right ahead."

The American grinned and wiggled his fingers just for show, singling out the gate's weakest points. Hinges screamed and broke. In a matter of seconds the right half of the gate had been ripped away from the rest of the fence and was hanging dismally, only supported by the chain that held the two doors together.

"Mission accomplished," Thor said with an air of calm finality.

The trio pushed their way past the abused gate and into the minuscule parking lot. There wasn't a single light on in the entire building. It seemed like a completely innocent place, nowhere near important enough to contribute any thought to and even less likely to be observed as a gang base.

Thor folded his arms. "I don't like this," he announced. "Everybody would still be awake right now. It's seriously too quiet."

"I think he's right, Raiden."

He looked at them pleadingly. "C'mon, guys, don't wimp out on me now. This is our chance to surprise them and maybe steal a couple of parts for the Boomstick and"-he turned to Sonata-"get revenge for your mom."

She shifted her eyes down at her feet. "You...you're right. Let's go."

The pair of robots started across the parking lot. Halfway along Raiden stopped and looked back at Thor. "You coming?"

"Uh...yeah. Wait up."

* * *

"P-please don't t-tell me we h-have to go i-n t-_there_!" 

Raiden squinted around uselessly in the near-total darkness. Sonata brushed past him into the warehouse's tar-black first level. "What's the matter with Thor?"

"Scared of the dark," Raiden responded shortly, finally giving up on the hope of making out anything. "Come on, Sir Wimp. I'm not going to hold your hand, but Sonata might."

The straw-haired girl, who was now completely lost to sight, giggled. "I won't either. Sorry."

"R-ray, why'd y-you bring a f-flashlight if y-you're not going to u-use it?"

"I call it being careful."

Raiden grinned at Thor and followed Sonata. The American let out a tiny whimper and took a half-step forward, as if afraid that the darkness might develop arms and drag him in.

"Thor, you damned idiot!" the Wilybot hissed, making the platinum-haired robot jump slightly. "Hurry up and get your ass in here!"

"We haven't got forever to pull this off!" Sonata added indignantly.

Two pairs of hands seized and yanked the poor robot in.

The three of them headed across the room behind the back door. Raiden led the way with Triple Spear in hand and Sonata stuck right behind him, her arms tight around one of Thor's to keep him from bolting. There weren't any windows and only the tiniest bit of moonlight tumbled through the narrow door.

All of a sudden a very high-pitched screamed ripped through the room.

"Sonata!" Raiden whispered frantically, stopping short and causing her to blunder into him.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't me."

"Then who could it have been, then?"

"Sorry," Thor muttered. "I just...I t-thought I felt...t-there was s-something against the b-back of my h-head, I knew there w-was."

An abrupt explosion of snickering erupted in one corner of the room. Raiden whipped out a flashlight and switched it on, flooding the offending area with a yellowish-white glow.

"N-nothing there..." Sonata mumbled, stating the obvious.

Raiden swung the light around toward a rustle that came from behind him. Again, nothing out of the ordinary was present. In fact, nothing was present at all.

"It's a small warehouse-they'd have to make the best of their space. We should be up to our ears in boxes. Something's wrong," he muttered to the other two.

"Well, I kind of noticed that!" Sonata almost snapped back. Raiden turned the flashlight on her. "Either we're all hallucinating or something invisible is-"

She screamed and was dragged out of the light. Raiden flailed about wildly with the beam, yelling her name. Sonata fired a blast of water at the indetectable person who had grabbed her but missed and soaked Thor instead. Somebody wrenched the flashlight out of Raiden's hand and turned it off. There was a small click dangerously close to Sonata's ear.

"Nobody moves unless you'd like to see her central processor smeared all over the floor."

Raiden and Thor stopped dead.

"The Boss knew you'd be coming. How stupid do you morons think we are?"

There was a short silence in the pitch-black room. "Guys?" Sonata ventured finally. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, we're f-fine. H-how about y-you?"

"He hasn't hurt me. Yet."

The invisible person chuckled darkly. "It's so touching to see how much you dopes care about each other. Makes it exponentially more fun to kill one of you."

"Leave her alone, Spectre!" Raiden thundered suddenly, realizing who the attacker was. "Let her go and I might give you a quick death."

Spectre snorted and pulled the trigger. Sonata screamed, Thor reflexively dropped to a crouch and Raiden made a weird gasping noise as the bullet embedded itself in the same place on his shoulder where Bladewing had injured him nine days ago.

"Damn, that sounded like a bad shot. Hold still so I can-_oomph_!"

Sonata sprinted across the room and barrelled into Thor.

"You all right? What'd you do to him?" he implied quickly, his fear of the dark completely forgotten.

"I kicked him in the crotch. Where's Raiden?"

"Over here...ow..."

Thor gently pushed her toward the voice. "You go make sure he's okay. Gimme your flashlight. Hey, Spectre!"

Sonata pulled a secondary flashlight out of her sweater's front pocket and handed it to him. There was a flash of purple as Thor activated the teleportation sequence for his armor. The handgun went off three more times, swiftly followed by a trio of pings as the bullets bounced harmlessly off Thor's next-to-unbreakable armor.

She did her best to ignore the exchange between the two and ended up walking straight into Raiden. The .45 roared twice, neither shot striking anything, and was reduced to clicking helplessly. The flashlight beam roved around the room and locked onto Spectre.

"We have to get out of here," Raiden muttered. "It's just one big ambush. We'll try again some other time."

Sonata had no time to react to the soft footsteps behind her. A pair of clawed hands was too big for any human tossed her carelessly aside.

"All right, that's _enough_!"

A quiet buzzing started and a triangular yellow sword of electricity appeared in Raiden's hand, shedding a surprisingly large pool of light that revealed Rast standing almost in front of the brown-haired robot.

One swing of the blade sent the Mexican stumbling away with a gash across his stomach. Spectre smashed into the wall not far away and landed in a heap of trenchcoat on the floor.

"Thor, let's go!"

The trio of Control Squadders headed for the doorway. Raiden and Thor both tried to lunge through it at the same time and subsequently got stuck, forcing Sonata to tackle them from behind to clear the way.

By the time Rast had helped Spectre to his feet and the LIST members had reached the door, their foes were lost to sight.


End file.
